Abducted
by ellfie
Summary: Victoria never thought being abducted by aliens would be the least of her worries. But when people start watching her every move, and her mind starts playing tricks on her, she realizes she's been pulled into something much bigger than she could imagine.
1. Where's the Doctor When You Need Him?

**A/N**: **THIS IS IMPORTANT SO PLEASE READ:**

This story was half written out before Brotherhood came out (I think even before I knew Brotherhood would have a single player campaign.) So that game really screwed up some of what I was going for.

That said, even before then this was considered AU(ish), meaning Alternate Universe, but only somewhat. There are a few things that make this story different from the game: It is set in 2014, but before Brotherhood and with the ending of AC2 somewhat skewed. Basically, it's like adding two years between those points in the games. Abstergo has not yet launched their satellite, and obviously the world has not ended. During this two year period Desmond, Lucy, Shaun, and Rebecca have continued on with missions and helping other Assassins to track down Templars, find out more about the artifacts and the Temples, etc. giving Desmond some more field experience as well. Abstergo has been doing much the same, but the Assassins and Templars went on a sort of hiatus with each other, with an approximately two year period of almost-peace while they each do their own thing.

The other major difference is that Those Who Came Before are not "dead." Rather, there are only a handful of them left and they are not what they used to be, at a much lower power and state. They basically separated themselves from the world after Adam and Eve did their thing and the wars and what not, and instead are watching from the outside while trying to conserve and build up their power again. They are still trying to keep history from repeating itself, (or so they claim) but now have lesser means to do so.

I think that's all the main differences. If you're confused, message me and I'll see if I can't explain it better. (not saying this isn't liable to change slightly as I smooth out the plot or get better ideas…)

**.x.**

**Chapter One**

If there was one thing Victoria learned in her month of residing in New York City, it would be that life was very, very strange, and people are even more so. She was used to residential or even rural areas when she was growing up, so the hustle and bustle and hobos were a change she slowly got used to. She became more aware of her surroundings – mostly to make sure her purse never got stolen and so she wouldn't get attacked.

But the passing people wearing odd make-up or outrageous outfits, or even the random group of college kids who would burst into a place with a boom box and dance around for five seconds, then leave – these were things she heard stories of and could have foreseen.

Victoria never would have guessed she would be abducted by aliens.

She had no clue where she was – she swore one second ago she was simply sleeping in her apartment – but now... The room was bright with indistinguishable blurs about that she assumed to be furniture. She was laying on a flat surface; not hard, but not soft, and it thrummed softly and had a warm feel to it like metal that had been out in the sun for a few minutes. A humming buzzed somewhere in her ears, or was she really _hearing_ it?

She did hear something though: voices. Fuzzy at first, like coming up out from beneath water or out of the haze of a deep sleep. It must've been the latter, since she realized she couldn't move. She didn't feel anything holding her down, she just couldn't move anything except her neck, as if paralyzed.

Victoria had watched the Discovery Channel; she knew stories of alien abduction. She vaguely remembered the symptoms even. But she always figured the "abductees" were either insane or had too much booze before bed. Now, as figures started coming towards her with a shining orb, she knew she must be insane.

She looked down at her hands, trying to break free of whatever paralysis they put her in. No good: no matter how much she willed her arms to shake they just laid there, limp. Her eyes traveled back to the forms now on either side of her, and as much as she knew she should be panicking... hell, as much as she _wanted_ to do something as normal as panic, she couldn't. She was completely content, as if she was simply sitting in her bed staring at the ceiling. The idea sent shivers down her spine.

The figures were talking to her, she realized, and the more she focused on them, the clearer they became. They were quite humanoid, actually basically human-looking except for outfits a cross between futuristic and ancient Greek, and an idealistic beauty about them. Plus the shine their skin seemed to have, but if they were really sparkle-pyres or just a glimmering reflection from the other light source, she wasn't sure. Either way, definitely nothing she saw in the movies.

"Can you hear me, Victoria?" The woman, or at least woman-looking one said in a silky voice. She had a pale, worn face and long red hair, and wore what looked like a metallic neck-brace and matching helmet. Victoria finally found the ability to nod. "Good," the woman nodded to the other figure, a man with a similar appearance but with dark, wavy locks. "We can start."

The man held up the shining gold orb, which grew brighter and brighter the closer it go to her face. The human part of her cowered and screamed, but she only felt the fear through a haze so simply watched in awe as he touched it to her forehead.

Her head spun. Eyes flickered. Mind twitched and reeled as images passed too quick to identify. It felt like her insides, physical _and_ emotional, were being torn out from her and violently untangled. Finally it slowed in twitches; pausing, searching–a woman in Greecian garb– pausing, searching–a girl playing in the Nile–pausing, searching–a boy hunting–pausing, searching...

She laid in a soft bed, the fabric still unable to caress her as softly as his fingers. It was dark, but his gentle shimmer gave light to his strong face as he smiled at her. She knew this wasn't right – forbidden, most likely – but as he kissed her again her insides flared, ceasing all moral thought.

_Eros,_ someone said sadly.

She leaned back as he held her face and kissed her neck, the heat of their bare bodies prompted them to rid themselves of the sheet covering them. She ran her fingers vigorously through his hair as he went lower, kissing her skin all the way.

_Yes, she has It then. Bring her back._

She was drowning, her head spinning and breath lost. She clutched at the air only to find she couldn't. Her insides were about to burst.

She sucked in a deep breath, eyes shooting open. Her chest heaved violently up and down as her eyes shot to the figures hovering over her. "What the hell did you just do!" She finally shouted, her voice cracking and throat dry.

"Calm down," the woman said, and immediately she did, but she shook her head against the feeling.

"How are you doing that?" Victoria shouted, finding her fingers able to curl again. "What do you want with me?"

The figured leaned back as if she had just insulted their mothers, and they started speaking at jet-fighter speeds to each other. Something about stronger, and more power, and closer. The man shoved the orb into her face again and she felt dizzy. She shut her eyes and bit her lip, wondering if she bit it hard enough she could wake up.

"You are fine," the woman spoke again in an even tone. "We simply need information." At that, Victoria's forehead burned and she hissed as her head spun and stomach churned. More images flashed across her mind. Her life, memories, old houses, old schools. Then things she learned, things she knew. Books she read and knowledge she collected or even had thought she ignored. They all spun around in her head until they fell back into the depths of her mind again, leaving her with a pounding headache.

She took deep, slow breaths as her vision cleared up again, and she found the figures talking again, this time with more voices from somewhere else in the room. But she couldn't understand what they were saying, or even what language they were speaking or if it was just too fast for her to catch.

She curled her fingers again, then tried flexing her wrist and moving her toes. The two figures looked back at her and watched her for a moment. When they said nothing, Victoria moved her forearm up a few centimeters and they simply watched her curiously. "You can't keep me here you know," Victoria started with a cracked voice. "Humans have rights, the Earth is a fully recognized planet in the Galactic Federation, and this is kidnapping according to the Union Law 56. You'll be in big trouble when they find out about this." She spout out sci-fi mumbo jumbo in hopes it would dissuade them from further action. Unfortunately, they simply looked amused, if a little confused every time she moved. Oh, where was the Doctor when you needed him? (Right, off saving Rose probably.)

While the woman watched her, the man took out another gold device that looked like a small, short rod. He moved it towards her face and she yelped and tried to lean away. "Quit it, I don't need my head any more messed up–" she started when the woman yelled at him too.

"We do not have enough time to get more power; she'll have to be our last." He explained, not that it helped Victoria at all.

The woman's face hardened, lips pressed into a tight line, and she looked over where the other voices were. "And we still cannot contact them, Diana?"

"The signal will not work, their minds are too filled with the Pieces already. There's too much interference." A strong voice replied, sounding tense.

The woman looked back at Victoria with a clenched jaw. "Fine. She will have to carry it. Go on."

"Wait, carry what?" Victoria cried, moving away from the burning tip. "What are you going to do?"

"Hush child! Your personal understanding in not required." The woman hissed at her and Victoria winced, her head pounding and chest tight.

The man sighed. "She is too upset, you need to calm her."

"How about you let me go instead?"

The woman glared at her and Victoria yelped again and shut her mouth. The woman sighed. "We are simply going to store information in a closed off section of your memory, so others can access it once they find you."

"Information? Others? _Find_ me?" Victoria cried, "I'm not liking the sounds of this."

"You will be fine, the message will not interfere with the rest of your mind."

"What about everything else you did to me? What was all that?"

She obviously wasn't fond of Victoria's questions but managed to answer in a soothing voice. "Nothing you need to worry about. As long as this message proceeds properly, you will be fine." Somehow Victoria did not completely believe her, but as she opened her mouth the woman added; "After this you will be returned to your home."

The pounding headache lessened, and she found breathing easier. "Okay," she mumbled, watching the man move the golden rod towards her again but the previous fear was veiled. "How will the message get through properly?"

"They will know when the time comes." Her voice became fuzzy and she found it hard to focus.

"They?" Victoria whispered, slowly blinking.

"Allies," the woman's voice swam in her head, and Victoria couldn't keep her eyes open even as she felt a burn to her temple and right palm. "They'll know you." As her eyes shut, flames flashed in her mind's eye before everything went black.

**.x.**

Victoria stumbled into the shower. She couldn't remember falling asleep, and hardly remembered waking up. All she knew was that she deathly wanted a shower. As the hot water pounded against her skin, the fog in the small bathroom mimicked the foggy state of her head. If she hadn't known any better, she would've sworn she had gotten drunk the night before. She felt nauseous and her head felt like it would explode if anyone made too loud a sound.

She tried to ignore it, and grabbed a shampoo bottle and poured a puddle of the foggy blue stuff into her palm. Suddenly she yelped, the plastic bottle clattering to the floor as she stared at her palm. She quickly held it up directly in the stream of water and scrubbed furiously at it, wincing at the raw skin. But it didn't go away.

On the right side of her palm, pressed into the fleshy skin around the thumb, bore dark lines that formed a tiny, incomplete triangle. It looked similar to the shape of open tweezers; an upside down _V_ with tiny lines curving in at the end.

As much as she tried to suppress it, the memories came back. And she screamed.

Her roommate came bursting in, half awake, wielding a thick bat. "Who's in here? I'll kill him! We won't need no police!" When it finally registered that it was only they two, Lori put the bat down and stared at Victoria, now curled in the tub with her hands against her head, fingers entwined in her long, dark hair.

"You woke me up for nothing," Lori sighed. "What was it? A rat? A spider? You don't usually scare so..."

Victoria looked up at her desperately, eyes wide and burning. "Where was I last night? Where? _Please_ tell me I was at a bar."

Lori stared at her, rubbing her head. "I don't know. I got in late – but you were here when I came in, passed out on your bed." She paused, as Victoria looked down again, mesmerized at the round ripples of the water. Lori leaned over and turned off the shower, handing her a towel. "Why? What happened?"

Victoria slowly took the towel, stared at it, then shook her head. It couldn't have happened; it was straight from the movies. Blinding lights, mysterious figures, cryptic messages – must've been one of those crazy dreams. Maybe she burned herself without realizing it when she slept.

She pressed her face into the towel. Yes, that must've been it. Because the other answer was way too crazy. "Nothing, just a rough night." She said softly, getting out of the tub and wrapping the towel around her.

"Rough night?" Lori raised her eyebrow, her lips quirking slightly but Victoria just gave her a hard stare and Lori quickly forgot the joke. "Fine, fine," Lori raised her hands, rolling her eyes. "I'm going back to bed." She left the bathroom, taking the bat with her.

Victoria slowly dried herself off and wiped the fog off the small mirror over the sink. Other than darker circles under her dulling grey eyes, she didn't look any different. Well, at least she could cross out "mutating" from abducting symptoms. She rubbed some neosporin into her palm in hopes the scar would disappear soon.

Despite the fact that it was a little after six in the morning, Victoria couldn't go back to sleep even if she wanted to. She went back to her room after she got dressed, while Lori tried to catch a few more minutes of sleep before she had to leave for work. Victoria ran her schedule over her head, having to look at her cell phone to double check the date. Saturday, thank God. She had no where to be today; her summer courses were only a few days during the work week, and since getting laid off from her job at a bookstore a few weeks ago, she hadn't found another job yet. She had enough money saved up and set aside so she had one less thing to stress about.

The next hour she spent staring at her ceiling, trying to read a book, flipping through uninteresting channels of the TV, and even staring blankly at her computer screen. Nothing helped. She couldn't focus, she couldn't sleep, she could only run through the things she saw.

When Lori was up and ready to leave, Victoria was looking out the window and down into the busy street, tracing the scar on her palm. "Hey, I'm heading out." Lori announced, checking through her wallet. "Hey," Lori repeated, looking up and walking over to her. "Hey!" She waved her hand in front of Victoria's face and the latter jumped.

"What!" Her voice cracked and she swallowed uneasily trying to salve her dry throat.

"I said I'm leaving, for work." Lori watched her, pushing back her short brown hair. "You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah," Victoria answered automatically, then with a little more confidence; "Yeah, of course. I'll just... hang out. See ya." Her voice softened and she stared out the window again, the golden light still in the back of her mind.

"Oookay," Lori gave her an odd look before slowly heading out. "See ya."

**.x.**

It was afternoon by the time Victoria left her apartment. She wore a thin, long sleeve shirt despite the warm temperature, the sleeves long enough to hide her hand. She walked down the street to a cafe on the corner, the short walk more stressful than she could've imagined. She watched everyone around her, flinching when they passed, grasping her purse to her like a lifeline. She screamed when someone brushed against her in passing, gaining enough odd and rude looks to make her slink into the store. She found a seat in the corner and huddled there, shaking.

She didn't know how long she sat there, fingers tapping against the table and her cup, staring wide-eyed at people and trying to sink into her seat at the sight of any red-head. But by the time she started back it was getting dark. She took a deep breath of the humid air, and stepped out of the doorway, clutching her purse. People passed, and she tried keeping her eyes to the ground, watching a variety of flip flops, sandals, and sneakers going past. The headlights bounced off the sidewalk and particularly shiny shoes, and she winced when one passed with those obnoxiously bright white lights. Her head throbbed and she rubbed between her eyes, wondering if a storm was coming. She always hated sinus pressure.

She looked up and screamed.

Everything around her was a blur; people faded into foggy black and white with the background, while others gleamed head-spinningly bright. Blues and reds and whites, as if the earth suddenly lost all color and now only these shining blues and reds were the last things alive.

A white blur passed next to her, and she spun around with wide eyes, only to spin again at another passing light–and another–and another–and––

Her head was going to explode. Her chest would burst any second. Her throat was raw and breath ragged. She blinked, shut her eyes painfully, rubbed them so hard they surely would fall out, but the colors–the _colors._

"Hey!" Her world stopped spinning as hands grabbed her and brought her back to earth. There was a blur of blue before suddenly the colors disappeared. Her eyes shot around – greens, and yellows, and browns– the earth was back.

She turned her attention ahead to a man standing in front of her grasping just above her elbows. He looked young with a tan, clean-shaven face aside from some stubble above his lip. He wore a worn, white sweatshirt with its hood up which she found odd on the warm night – she glanced down at her long sleeve, realizing her palm was exposed. She flipped her hand over and closed her fingers, looking back up at the man nervously, but she knew it was too late. He'd seen it.

He stared at her, curious, eyes like a scientist, like the figures–

Victoria yanked away from his grasp. "Sorry, I didn't– didn't mean to–" Her head throbbed, and she clutched tighter to her purse, reminding herself that her bed was only one hundred feet and an elevator ride away.

"No problem." He gave an easy smile, and she just stared at him. Most people would've walked away by now, usually cursing her. "Just remember to focus on what's ahead for you."

"Uh... okay, thanks." She mumbled awkwardly, keeping an eye on him as she moved away. He turned away and walked into the crowd and in a blink– was gone. She scanned the crowd again, but the man had disappeared. She put her hand to her head and walked back to her apartment, wondering if twenty-one years was a normal amount of time for a very vivid imagination to kick in.

When she got back she threw her purse down, kicked her shoes off, and went to get more neosporin. She reached into her short's pockets to fish out change and dump it in Lori and her's extra-change jar they had for emergencies when she heard crunching. She pulled out a handful of pennies and nickels– and a rip of paper. She uncrumpled it and stared at the scrawly writing, hands shaking.

_Watch your back_

**.x.**

**A/N**: Anyway. Still working the kinks out of this story, but I figured finally getting it up will help me figure some things out. Me and chaptered fanfictions don't tend to get along. This, along with a disgusting amount of others, has been on my hard drive for a while, which is why I'm pissed because Brotherhood messed my plot up. Oh well.

And by the way, that thing at the beginning with people dancing around with a boom box? Yep, that happened to my brother. They were all wearing animal print spandex too.


	2. I Swear I'm Not Anorexic

**A/N**: Thanks for _all_ the reviews, guys. Seriously. I'm whelmed.

**.x.**

_**Chapter Two**_

Victoria refused to leave her apartment for days. She spent the time huddled in her bed, fear of people and the figures and the strange lights keeping her house-bound. As much as she tried to clear her mind – even to the extent of using Lori's Yoga-at-home DVDs – memories of the recent strange events were never far from her thoughts. She couldn't function, barely talked to Lori who was out more and more, couldn't return calls from her other friends and even parents, could hardly keep anything in her stomach and rarely had the desire to fill it back up. She even skipped some of her classes, but the thought of the money wasted prompted her to finally get back out.

Even then she left class early, her headaches too much to handle in the classroom. She stopped at the corner Starbucks and bought some coffee, hoping the caffeine would help. Trying to focus solely on drinking her coffee she scanned the crowd around her, happy to be a little more comfortable with seeing people, even if she did flinch when someone passed or looked at her.

Her eyes stopped on a man seated a few tables away, his drink hardly touched. He wore the same white sweatshirt, but the hood was down now and she could see his cropped, dark brown hair. Immediately she thought the worst: he was stalking her; he was an insane murderer with a fetish for pale skin and dark hair; he was one of those figures in disguise trying to take her back to shove more things into her brain–

_Or,_ the now small, rational part of her brain added,_ he just likes coffee_. She was being stupid and paranoid. This cafe was a popular place, and it was only a few steps from here she had seen him last. Maybe he even lived in the same building as her.

Victoria watched him as she thought. Was he the one who put that paper in her pocket? It wasn't a very far jump, but she passed so many people that it really could've been anyone. Heck, it could've even been Lori playing some stupid joke on her. Then she remembered what he told her. Who says "focus on what's ahead _for_ you" unless they're some therapist trying to give a lame pep-talk? He probably just meant "of," that'd make more sense. She _was_ having a problem paying attention to where she was going.

She blinked as her thoughts faded to the back of her mind and her eyes focused again. The man was staring at her, face unreadable, and her cheeks burned. She looked past him, trying to pretend she had been watching the clock instead. She really had to stop zoning out like that. She caught him smiling out of the corner of her eye.

When Victoria returned to her apartment, with only minimal yelping at passerbies, she found Lori filling a suitcase.

She paused in the open doorway to their shared bedroom, dropping her purse. "What are you doing?" Victoria asked softly, afraid she already knew the answer.

Lori looked up at her and sighed, rubbing her head. "I was hoping I could leave it in a letter." She grumbled, dropping a book into her mostly filled case and avoiding Victoria's gaze. "I just... need a little space."

Victoria paused. "Are you breaking up with me?" She tried to smile, but her dry humor went no where. Lori zipped up the suitcase.

"My boyfriend is renting a place in the Poconos, so I'm taking my vacation time now."

Victoria shifted her weight, knowing from the tension in the air that the vacation wasn't simply because Lori wanted to learn how to ski. She bit her lip. "Why?"

Lori sighed again, dropping her head before straightening up and staring at Victoria. "Why? Why are _you_ acting so weird? This is the first time in forever you've actually got out of the apartment. You're always huddled in the corner staring off into space like some retarded kid! You're barely eating, don't pick up after yourself anymore, you barely even look at me! And I haven't slept in _days_! All you do is kick and scream and moan at all hours of the night. I can't take it! You're getting me all stressed out!"

Victoria looked at the floor, staring at her black sneakers.

"Look," Lori heaved her suitcase off her bed and slung it over her shoulder. "I'm not your mom. I don't have the time or energy to take care of you." At Victoria's confused look, Lori laughed humorlessly and shook her head. "You weren't even paying attention were you? Where's your head at?" Lori grabbed her purse then looked back at her. "This whole week I've been trying to get you to eat, I've been giving you Ibuprofen – did you know you had a fever the other night? You kept screaming something about fire and getting away – I bet you woke up the whole building! I stayed up, got you water and ice packs until you went to sleep."

Victoria bit her lip as her chest tightened. She didn't remember any of that. All she knew was that her nights were never restful. "I'm sorry, I didn't..."

"Hey," Lori interrupted, walking up to her. "I'm not blaming you. But I'm your _roommate_, not your caretaker." She paused and Victoria looked at her before moving aside. "And whatever you're on now, you seriously need to lay off. Go get addicted to gummy bears or something that'll just rot your teeth."

Victoria's mouth fell open. "I'm not on drugs!"

Lori shrugged. "Whatever."

"I'm not, I swear! I'm not that stupid!" Victoria shouted.

"Hey, everyone's been there before, I'm not judging." Victoria opened her mouth to protest again, but let it go. Drugs would be a better explanation for everything anyway. "I'll be back later. I left this month's rent in the jar."

Victoria glanced at their change jar, seeing a folded check on top. "Thanks."

Lori opened the door and smiled back at her. "Take care. I'll call when I'm coming back."

"Okay," Victoria nodded, "Have fun." Lori raised her hand and left.

Victoria dropped onto her bed, wondering what was happening to her. She knew she had nightmares, but could barely remember them when she woke up. And she felt so awful everywhere all the time now that she didn't even notice she got sick. She felt guilty for putting her roommate through that, and as the time passed and the room quieted – aside from the far-off city noise dimmed through the thick windows and not so far off creaks from her neighbors – she realized Lori wasn't coming back for a while. The thought made her stomach clench. She wouldn't consider them friends as they never really hung out since they saw enough of each other at home, but it wasn't exactly acquaintances. They had some good times, and some bad; more like a distant version of a sister.

She realized as she curled up into a blanket even though it was still daylight, that she did not like being alone.

**.x.**

Her headaches didn't get any better, only coming more often, so the next day Victoria scrounged up some blue thick lace fingerless gloves she bought years ago and went down the street to find some migraine medicine. She walked through the isle of the cramped drugstore, scanning the products for the best and cheapest one. She touched a red box when there was a loud _crash_. She jumped and spun around, swallowing a scream.

"Shit," a man stood at the end of the isle in front of broken shelves, boxes littered at his feet. The man at the counter started yelling at him. "Hey don't blame me, man! Your shelves just fell. You should fix that, someone could get hurt." He didn't seem too concerned, and she found herself staring again. It was the same man as before, she was sure, but in a black sweatshirt this time and dark blue jeans. His hood was up but pulled back slightly so he looked less menacing. He turned towards her and she almost jumped, eyes shooting back to the medicine boxes. She stared at the box, seeing the label but unable to actually read it. The back of her neck tingled uncomfortably and she could feel eyes on her. She felt jittery – not that that was unusual nowadays – and the throbbing in her temple blared.

She didn't realize that she picked up the box until it clattered to the floor, her hands shaking. She stared at them, willing them to stop, but even when she clenched them into fists they continued to shake.

Her head throbbed and she lowered herself to pick up the medicine. Something touched her arm and she jumped, causing her head to spin.

"Hey, you all right?" The man asked softly. She hadn't heard him come over. She glanced at him but had to shut her eyes against the pounding in her head, clutching it painfully. Her mind spun, voices screaming something but she couldn't make anything out. Her ears drummed and she was sure her head was going to burst.

"Hey–hey!" His voice was soft but urgent, and her brain slammed on the brakes and she felt herself be thrown forwards by the force although she didn't actually move. She blinked her eyes open, keeping her palms pressed against her temples in case the disturbing sensations came back. "You good now?" The man was watching her with fresh worry, his hand gripping her shoulder. She shrugged out of his touch as subtly as possible, but he got the message and dropped his hand.

"Yeah–of course– I just..." She stumbled over her words, throat tight and dry. She picked up the medicine box again, glad to see her hands had stopped shaking, mostly. "Ah – migraines." She paused, showing him the box awkwardly, "You know how it is."

"Yeah, I do." He said seriously as he helped her back to her feet. Victoria studied him uncertainly, trying to figure out if she was creeped out or grateful. Considering the past week, she was leaning more towards the first. She fingered the migraine medicine and glared at it, blaming it for her trouble. She picked up a second box anyway. At this rate, maybe she _would_ get addicted to drugs. She snorted, then noticed the man hadn't left, only took a small step away. Was there something about her that attracted creepy guys?

"So, uh, this stuff work for you?" She asked, knowing how awkward it sounded, but it wasn't her fault. She caught him looking at her fingerless gloves, which did a good job covering the scar without looking awkward. Though the scar hadn't showed any signs of healing despite the bottles of neosporin she was rubbing into it... she'd have to buy more of that too. But she was sure he knew what she was doing, and suddenly felt stupid wearing the gloves.

He did not comment on it though, which she was grateful for. "Sometimes. Usually, no." He shrugged.

Victoria looked at him oddly. "Is there another one you'd recommend?"

He shook his head, a grim smile on his lips – she suddenly noticed a white scar slashed down them. That must've hurt. "Not much to help what you have. You get used to it though."

"Oh." Were they talking about the same thing? Strong painkillers always managed to help in some way. What did he think she had? She blinked – what did _she_ think she had? She had no idea... "the crazies" seemed like a good description.

"So," she started, when he didn't speak up again but didn't leave either. "You live in the area?" Great, now _she_ sounded like the creeper. She clutched the medicine boxes, really just wanting to go back home and maybe smash her head against the wall a few times.

"You could say that," he shrugged, his hands placed leisurely in his pockets. Her paranoia struck and she took a small step away, thinking of all the things he could be hiding. How easily this could turn into a hostage situation, or with her head blown up and splattered all over the shelves. Or maybe he'd pull her out at gun point and drag her somewhere no-one would find and rape her, then shoot her anyway and dump her body in the bay where some duck-tour boat would run over it and–

"Sorry," he must've noticed her distress because he quickly took his hands out and held them up, palms up. "It's okay, nothing here, see?"

She watched him for a moment, tense, before she mentally kicked herself and forced herself to relax. "Yeah, sorry." She rubbed her head. "Rough week."

"Don't worry about it." He smiled slightly and she felt a bit better.

"All right, well," she started after a moment, "I have more shopping to do, so I'm just gonna..." she gestured down the isle and he nodded.

"Yep, see ya." He scanned her over before giving another smile and leaving the store, giving the broken shelves wide birth.

Victoria watched him go, eyebrows raised, before going back to search for scar removers.

**.x.**

Victoria made it through her other classes with some effort. Granted, she couldn't really follow what was going on and her notes were filled with scribbles, but she showed up and stayed. She was getting better at handling her sudden sociophobia, and even the occasional odd black and white blurred vision she dealt with with only minor freak-outs. The headaches refused to get better, though, even with the medicine, but she managed to grow a tolerance to them.

So she spent more time at the corner cafe when she realized she couldn't coop herself up in her apartment. It was close enough to make a hasty retreat easy, and she knew where to sit so she didn't get claustrophobic.

She sat at the small corner table, sipping a small latte, finding comfort in sketching out the store in her small notebook. She scratched at the paper, her black pen making messy lines forming sketches of the tables and counter, and vague outlines of some of the people. She sipped her drink again, ignoring the throbbing in the back of her head, shutting her eyes from a moment to message her temples to no avail. Sighing, she returned her focus to her messy drawing, only to realize one of the people she was drawing was no longer there.

Victoria jumped, seeing movement out of the corner of her eye. She calmed herself down, only to have her stomach churn again. A man was walking towards her and, surprise, it was the same one from before. _What is with this guy? _She clutched her pen and watched him come up to her.

He stopped in front of her table. "Have you been eating?"

Victoria stared at him, eyebrows raised. "That is the worse pickup line I've ever heard." She smiled; that was good sign, she was getting back to normal. Less meek, more snarky.

He laughed but shook his head and invited himself to sit down facing her. She continued watching him oddly, pulling her cup closer. "No, seriously. You look awful."

"You're still not scoring many points here, buddy."

He grimaced but looked serious. "You need to eat."

"I do eat, _mom_." She refrained from rolling her eyes, figuring she shouldn't be_ too_ immature.

"Coffee and... strawberries aren't enough."

Her eyes widened slightly. Whenever she felt down she would splurge and by herself tons her favourite food at that moment, which currently were strawberries. She had been living off them recently, hardly able to eat anything else because she either had no desire to eat, or felt nauseous at the thought. How'd he know about that? Seeing her confusion, he motioned to her hands. She looked down and realized her fingertips still had vague red stains, but even _she_ hadn't noticed them. How in the world did he?

"You need to eat something substantial," he started again. "Unless you feel like passing out."

Did she look that bad? She scrounged around in her purse for her compact mirror. Victoria had been avoiding mirrors after she started seeing blurry shapes in them and reflections that were not quite her, more like she had a twin who was staring at her. She pulled out the small mirror and wiped the lint off it, staring at herself. Her skin was paler than normal, and stretched tighter across her cheek bones. She had dark bags under her eyes which she doubted even the best concealer would help. Pressing her lips together, she realized they were rather dry and rough, no doubt from her constant nervous biting. They also seemed an unhealthy pale pink. Avoiding the reflection of her eyes, she looked down at her hands. They were long and boney, the joint in her wrist standing out awkwardly, along with her spidery blue veins. She wondered if she had any muscle left in her forearm.

She looked at the man again, who gave her a sympathetic look. She fingered the mirror, glancing at her reflection again. A tanned girl with black hair and dark eyes stared back at her and she yelped, throwing the mirror away from her like it was a poisonous snake. It clattered to the floor somewhere near an empty table, though the sudden movement gained her odd looks from the other people. The man glanced around as if expecting something then relaxed and turned back to her with a worried expression.

Victoria grabbed her long ponytail and pulled the end into her face. It was dark brown with strands of auburn – not black. She let out a breath then looked at her hands. Same sickly pale color. She looked back to the man. "What color are my eyes?"

"What?" He raised his eyebrows.

"What color are my eyes," she said again, slower. He gave her an odd look but leaned forward to see. She noticed his were a light brown.

"Hazel," he said, and Victoria let out another breath. "Is everything okay?"

Victoria rubbed her head. "Yeah, just... seeing things."

He nodded but didn't say anything, simply watching her with a hint of worry creasing his forehead. She looked down at her hands, grabbing her coffee and staring at it awkwardly. After a few minutes of silence, and her wondering why he didn't leave, he suddenly got up. He gave her a smile and walked towards the counter, and she watched him pick up a plate of food. He must've been called and she simply didn't notice. He came back with a sandwich with a small bag of chips on the side and a bottle of water. She wondered why he didn't just pick another table so he wouldn't have to eat with a girl who just threw a mirror halfway across a store. She idly wondered if it hit anyone. That would've been funny.

He sat back down and pushed the plate near her. "Which half do you want?"

She stared at him, mouth open. He talked as if they were friends out to lunch, not a currently insane woman and a man who kept running into each other by chance. She mentally scratched out the last part. Coincidences were not her forte. Everything happened for a reason. Now, figuring out the reason was a whole other issue...

"I'm not hungry," she said, her paranoia wondering if he put something in the food.

"I didn't ask if you were hungry." He took the half nearest to him after opening the potato chip bag.

"I can go get my own, you eat it." She grabbed her pen again and started scratching doodles at the edge of the paper.

"You can," he took a bite of his sandwich. "But you won't. So, eat." He pushed the plate so it covered part of the notepad. She stared down at the sandwich, her stomach protesting even the thought of putting it in her mouth. But she knew from experience that that was just another sign that she needed to eat. She reluctantly reached over for a chip instead. He smiled as she ate it slowly, in bites, and he took another bite of his sandwich while pouring out some chips onto the plate.

It went down okay, the salt refreshing, and after a moment she took another. "Why do you care?"

"I thought we already went over this," he said, taking a chip for himself. "Do you really want to pass out?"

Realizing she wasn't going to get a better answer, she continued munching, finding herself getting hungrier. He was right, she hadn't eaten properly in days, maybe a week, maybe more. It was good to be hungry again. By the time he was two bites away from finishing his half of the sandwich, she finally started on hers. They ate in silence; Victoria casting him looks every now and then, feeling his stare.

Finally she realized something. "I'm Victoria."

He watched her silently for a long moment, chewing on a chip thoughtfully. "Desmond."

She nodded, smiling slightly. "I had a cat named Desmond."

He snorted a laugh. "Really?"

"Yeah, but he didn't like us very much. He'd run around the house chasing anything that twitched, and would only let us near him when he got hungry." She took a sip of her now cold coffee. "One day he got outside and never came back."

"Wow," he gave a short laugh, shaking his head.

"What?" She raised her eyebrows, not seeing why anyone would laugh at that.

"Nothing," he shook his head. She was taking the last bite of her sandwich when he spoke up again. "Are your headaches any better?"

She took a moment to chew, thinking of giving an easy avoiding _yes_, but he seemed to see right through her and gave her a knowing look. She sighed. "No."

"Told ya." Desmond gave a half-hearted smirk.

"I don't see why though," Victoria continued after a moment, wiping her fingers on a napkin, now unable _not _to see the strawberry stains. "I've been practically popping pills like a hippie."

"That's because you don't have just any old migraine." He took a large swig of water.

"Are you a doctor or something?" Victoria smiled doubtfully, and he returned it with a laugh.

"Nah, you know how much work it takes to become a doctor? Really not into that idea."

"Oh yeah. High school chemistry killed me, and I swore never to go into the medical field."

He nodded with an understanding smile, "So what did you decide to go into?"

She shrugged, "I dabbled, though when they made me pick one I chose Psychology. I should be able to find something with that. A guidance counselor or something." Now that she thought about it, _she_ was the one who needed a counselor… Victoria noticed that while he seemed interested enough, it didn't seem like new information to him.

"And art?" He motioned with his head towards the forgotten notebook still open to the sketch of the store.

"A hobby," she found her cheeks burning and she stuffed the notebook back into her purse. "Can't depend on it to make a living."

"You could try," he said. "You never know."

Victoria shrugged uncomfortably. "What about you?"

Desmond leaned back in his chair and shrugged. "College never happened for me."

"I'm sorry," Victoria said, at a loss for a better response.

He shook his head, "I'm where I should be now."

"That's good..." Victoria tried, awkwardly noticing his avoidance, then suddenly realizing the topic switch. She frowned and tried to find a way back to more important issues, but failed. With the food done, and the last few sips of her coffee cold, she wasn't sure what else to do, as the conversation after that seemed to die. Her phone chose that moment to ring and she quickly fished it out of her pocket, looking at the caller ID. "My mom," she said, looking to Desmond while starting to get up. "I should take this–"

"Yeah, no problem." He got up as well, grabbing the plate before she could. "I'll see you around." He walked away, throwing the trash out before placing the plate on top of the bin. He left the cafe with barely a glance her way.

Victoria watched, uncertain about the whole thing, but ignored it as her phone vibrated again. "Hey mom." She said into the phone, walking over to the trashcan.

"_Hey, haven't heard from you in a while." _Her mom's voice sounded slightly fuzzy, she must've been driving.

"Yeah, it's been... hectic. Sorry." She paused by the table where her mirror landed, leaning down to pick it up with an apologetic smile to the people now seated there. She stuffed it into her purse, careful not to look into it.

"_Have you been good? Eating?"_

Victoria almost laughed, "Yes, that's covered."

"_And your classes?"_

"Also fine. How are you guys?" She stopped at the trashcan to throw out her cup, and froze.

"_Good to hear. Your father's working and stressing, as usual; Amy just broke up with her boyfriend and is currently going through the motions; and I'm keeping the house going." _She hardly heard what her mom said, giving a noncommittal grunt while staring at the top of the trash can where all the plates go until they're picked up.

She picked up the small piece of paper sitting on top the plate and opened it, pressing the phone between her ear and shoulder. There, in the same scrawly handwriting;

_Remember to eat_

"_Tori? Victoria? Are you there?"_

Victoria gave a small smile. "Yeah, mom."

**.x.**

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* * *

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**A/N: **So, questions? Concerns? Ideas? Especially the ideas ones. Or constructive criticism.

Also, da Vinci disappearance? Way too short. BUT, if you finished it, you'll know what I'm talking about when I say I need to think of a new thing to incorporate because of the location... thought, that part of New York is several hours away from NYC. Plus, I'm still trying to figure out more info on just WHAT it is...


	3. Why I Don't Go to the Movies

**A/N:** It's crunch time this semester, more tests, catching up, and intense rehearsals for the play I'm in… Editing is one of my least favourite parts of this whole process, which is why these are taking longer to put up. Soon though I will be out of pre-written ones, but while I have some stuff planned out, a large portion is still up in the air and I'm not sure what to do yet…

So if you are interested, or your know someone, who wouldn't mind beta-ing and helping me figure out where the hell this fic is going (I hate writing chaptered fanfiction…) PLEASE send a PM or something my way.

**.x.**

**Chapter Three**

Although the headaches still pounded through her head without warning – like evil versions of the seven dwarves on crack – her attitude evened out as the days went on. Victoria paid more attention and participated more in her classes, got her work mostly done, and could read about two pages of a book before zoning out and thinking of the figures again. A week ago she hadn't been able to read a sentence properly let alone a page.

And she _did_ eat better. Even took those multi-vitamin gummies in the shape of fish (which were way more pleasant than the adult horse pills). Overall she was feeling much better, even though no where near to how she was before the... incident. She accepted it wasn't a dream – the scar still evident with no signs of lightening – but she had not come to terms with calling it an _abduction._ The thought sent shivers down her spine and the cynical part of her brain laughed at her stupidity. She had finally slipped over the edge to join the crazies she never used to take seriously.

But she continued seeing things, and it seemed to get worse. She couldn't control the strange colored vision, but she realized that right before it started there would be an odd burning sensation behind her eyes. Afterwards she would just wait for it to go away, which took almost half an hour one time. The other visions were more obscure and gave her no sign. She would suddenly think she was in Greece, or Egypt, or even Russia and for a few seconds see flashes of unfamiliar surroundings and people dressed right out of history books. She continued avoiding reflections because of the occasional image of a stranger, and her dreams were haunted with fire.

Even more weird but actually helpful was when she would, out of the blue, know something she never even heard of before. Usually it was just understanding concepts more easily and she hadn't noticed it until someone asked her a question. Well, really two girls were talking in the hallway after a class let out about a history test they had and couldn't remember when the First Crusade happened.

"1096 to 1099," Victoria had blurted out. "Pope Urban II gave a speech at Clermont, France in 1095 after being requested by Alexios I Komnenos to help repel the Seljuk Turks." She stopped with a deep breath, wide eyed and chanced a look at the two girls who were staring at her with equally baffled looks. She never studied the first crusade, and never, ever remembered dates of any historical event (except perhaps 1776, but that was only because of the musical). She didn't even think she could pronounce that Alex guy's name a second time. The girls had mumbled an awkward thanks and quickly left, Victoria soon following suit and shutting herself in her apartment again.

Victoria also continued to spot the man, Desmond, every day or so. But when she tried to make contact to ask about the first note she was now sure he left, about watching her back, he would disappear. Literally, disappear. And she'd not see him for another two days. She couldn't make sense of it. Not that she could make sense of anything anymore... and it continued to bug her. _Something_ was going on, the figures or aliens or whatever they were had said so, or at least implied. But it seemed she wasn't in the circle, so she was forced to deal with the strange occurrences and continue living as if nothing ever happened.

People must've noticed her change though. Her classmates, which she previously was on an acquaintance level generally, either stayed away from her or cast her pitying looks. Finally one day after class, Jenna, a classmate and could-be friend if Victoria could make the effort, stopped her.

"Hey," Jenna smiled. "Some of us are getting together tonight to see a movie, and go out for pizza or something after. Wanna come?"

Victoria stared at her for a moment, adjusting her shoulder bag. "Uhm, yeah." She blinked and shook her head, getting over the momentary shock. "Yes, sure. Thanks."

"Great, it starts at four, but we'll be there around three-thirty." She gave a kind smile that Victoria returned.

She did a terrible job keeping track of time, however, while trying to get over the thought of how many people would be cramped into a movie theatre. She got a text from Jenna fifteen minutes from four asking her where she was, though Victoria couldn't remember giving out her phone number.

_Be there soon. Meet you inside the theatre._ She quickly texted back, grabbing her purse and stuffing a water bottle in it before forcing herself out of the apartment. She made it there about five minutes before it started, and waited nervously in line for a ticket. She stood as far away from the man in front of her as possible without giving away her spot, and kept twirling her favourite ring around her finger. She was looking to the side to fish out her wallet from her purse when she noticed something.

A few people behind her he stood, looking up at the movie times nonchalantly, wearing a grey sweatshirt with the hood up. White ear buds wires came out from under his hood, falling down until it looped into his jean's pocket.

She didn't think he saw her so she turned back around, focusing on the now moving line. She didn't have the nerve to confront him about the notes yet, still nervous at the thought of being in a dark room with dozens of strangers for two hours straight. Tapping her foot as the line dwindled in front of her and minutes ticked by, her neck prickled uncomfortably and head pounded a bit more than usual. She had figured out that meant someone was watching her – which really wasn't that hard a conclusion in the city – but she knew who it was and it made her more uncomfortable.

Victoria finally ordered her ticket with a minute to spare, but she didn't rush. She lingered near the counter pretending to be checking her messages on her cell phone, and focused on the man as he stepped up to buy. Suddenly, she felt light headed – but only for a moment. Everything around her was mind-numbingly loud until she forced her brain to focus only on those around the ticket counter. The world went dull, like listening to music pounding outside of a building, and the voices of the people to her left were more pronounced.

It was insanely hard to focus, and her head throbbed the more she tried, but she managed to catch what movie he was seeing.

The same movie she was currently missing the opening credits of.

Victoria shook it off and quickly walked to the theatre. She made it into the already dark room and had to take a few breaths before moving to find a seat. Spotting Jenna waving at her, she quickly found a seat beside her. Jenna leaned over to speak over the trailer.

"Are you okay? You look..." Jenna paused, pressing her lips together. "Stressed."

Victoria nodded, spinning her ring again. "Yeah, fine. Just had some issues getting over here, that's..." She stopped, watching as Desmond entered, scan the audience, then find a seat a few rows behind her. _Great._

"Victoria? Victoria – everything all right?" Jenna waved her hand in front of Victoria's face then followed her line of vision as Desmond was walking to his seats. "_Oh._ Who is he? A crush? An ex?"

Victoria blinked and whipped her attention back to the blond. "What? No! Just... someone I keep running into."

"Aw, cute." Jenna pushed her in the arm. "Maybe someone's trying to tell you something; _tons_ of romance movies have plots like that."

"Yeah, I'm sure someone's trying to tell me to write a screenplay." Victoria shook her head and grinned a little when Jenna rolled her eyes and pushed her again. Someone shushed them and they fell silent as Victoria thought about the absurd comment. No _way_ this whole thing was about something as stupid as a _relationship._ This, whatever it was, was so much bigger. She could feel it.

The movie played and she found it hard to concentrate. Partly because of the dark room and bright screen and loud speakers making her headaches worse, but mostly because the tingling feeling in the back of her neck wouldn't go away.

Finally, she got fed up with it and stood up. "I'll be back," she whispered to Jenna who continued watching the screen but nodded.

She awkwardly scooted past people and found her way to a seat near Desmond, the movie theatre only partially filled. She sat a seat away from him, just in case. He was leaning back pleasantly, a medium bucket of popcorn in his lap, and he had the gall to pretend he didn't notice her. She highly doubted he was paying much attention to the movie. She suddenly wished she had bought popcorn just so she could throw it at him.

She leaned over the armrest of the empty chair and whispered, "Enjoying the view?" Part of her hoped he would jump or flinch or _something_ at being addressed right out of the blue. Unfortunately, she didn't have such luck.

"Yes, actually," he took a handful of popcorn and stuffed it into his mouth, completely unbothered by her annoyed tone. "And hello to you too. I see you've been eating."

She gave an aggravated sigh, gathering her thoughts. "Why are you here?"

He gave her a sideways glance, she couldn't make out much more of his expression, but his tone was so snarky she didn't need to see it. "Watching a movie. Why are _you_ here?"

"I was _trying_ to watch a movie, but I couldn't help but feel like I was being watched." She growled at him. Someone hushed her loudly and kicked her seat, and she sent a glare in that direction before moving over to sit right next to him so she could speak quieter.

He made a thoughtful hum, but it sounded fake. "Yeah, gotta watch out for those creeps. They're always hanging around places like this."

"What's your problem!" Victoria forced herself to keep her voice down, but she felt her heart pounding faster. "Are you stalking me, or what? Do you want my phone number or something, or maybe you're just a really persistent hobo?"

"Oi! Keep it down!" Someone kicked her seat again, and she shot a glare at the middle aged man sitting behind her. For a strange split second, she wanted to bury a knife into the man's throat, feel the warmth of his blood spraying across her hands, and her fingers twitched in anticipation. It quickly passed, and she blinked, her anger seeping away as she melted more into her chair and stared at the screen with wide eyes. The violent thought was foreign, and much more vivid and alluring than the occasional violent ideas she head when she was in one of her human-race-hating moods. It was strange, and left her skin prickling and insides cold. She glanced down at her hands and had to swallow a scream–

They were covered in blood.

She tried to wipe it off, assuming it would disappear any second like her other strange visions, but the red liquid only covered more. Her fingers, her palms, her wrists – all slick with warm blood that continued to drip down her arms. She violently rubbed at her arms but it wouldn't do a thing. Her breath hitched in her throat and she found herself softly whimpering as her head throbbed more and more.

A scream jolted her out of her panic attack and she whipped her head around only to realize it came from the movie. Something knocked against her hand and she managed to simply turn to look – no flinching or jumping, finally.

Desmond was watching her, holding the popcorn bucket towards her. "Try not to think about it. Focus on something else."

She felt herself nodding but didn't move to take any popcorn. Instead she crossed her arms tightly, tucking her hands under her armpits. She didn't want to see them.

After a long moment where Victoria was focusing on the obvious plot devices and artistic choices of the movie, Desmond leaned over slightly and said so hushed she could hardly hear it, even if she could feel his breath near her ear, "What did you see?"

She paused. Breathed. Swallowed. "Blood." Why was she telling him? "Lots of blood." She took another breath and glanced at him. "But I'm a wuss; I can't kill anything. I catch friggin _bugs_ and let them out my window rather than squash them. Why would my hands be covered in..." It wasn't like she had a phobia of blood; she'd seen enough on herself and her sister, and both had the scars to prove it. But that much, _on her hands..._

"Hey," Desmond whispered gently, the bucket on the floor. He touched her wrist and slowly coaxed her hands loose, but she wouldn't look at them. "Look at me." His voice was soft and soothing. Reluctantly, she did, feeling his hands around hers. "Those weren't your hands. The blood is not there. You didn't do anything." She found herself nodding and he smiled. "See?" His hands opened to reveal hers though it took her a moment to look at them. There they were; creamy skin, blue lace fingerless gloves, chipped, rose nail polish and all.

"No blood," she breathed, relieved.

"No blood." He smiled, then retracted his hands and sat back. "Except there." He was looking at the screen again and Victoria followed his gaze. It was a hospital scene. She grimaced a bit, but tried to focus on the movie again. The thought occurred that it was a complete waste of her money, since she was hardly following it, and couldn't even remember the main character's name anymore. But it looked like he had gotten into a crash of some sort, since he looked outrageously injured. Victoria lowered her eyes to her boots.

She spent the rest of the movie getting over the blood, taking hesitant peeks at her fingers occasionally, but she was careful to keep her hands out of sight for the most part. By the time the ending credits rolled by, Victoria felt completely sunk into her seat, having hardly moved and only attempted to make herself smaller. She shifted uncomfortably as the audience started standing up and leaving in groups. She tucked her legs back for people to pass and kept her gaze ahead of her, still sunk in the seat and trying not to focus on the close contact. She spotted Jenna looking around for her so she hesitantly waved, still not looking at her hand. The group they had come with was leaving, but Victoria wasn't about to deal with the crowd. Besides, some movies had easter eggs at the end of credits.

Jenna spotted her, gave a questioning gaze, then smiled and waved back as well as giving a wink Victoria hardly caught. She groaned.

"Friend of yours?" Desmond asked easily with an amused quirk on his lips. She had been feeling his gaze throughout the movie, though he had said nothing until now. He remained in his seat as well, making it difficult for people to pass though he didn't seem to care.

"I guess." Victoria watched Jenna leave, wondering if she really should've followed. She scooted uncomfortably to the edge of her seat, realizing how empty the theatre was getting.

"You're so uptight," Desmond laughed. "I'm not going to eat you or anything."

She snorted but said nothing, a little alarmed at how easily he read her. Spinning the ring around her finger again, she watched the credits roll by to an anti-climactic ending; no easter egg. "Lame," she mumbled half-heartedly and quickly got up, taking the longer way to the exit so not to pass in front of Desmond. She practically tripped down the stairs with dotted lights, her whole body stiff and head still spinning slightly. She paused at the end of the steps, shifting her weight and nipping on her fingers as she watched Desmond come down. She envied his ease and calm demeanor. He seemed in complete control of his body, which she realized was the only thing anyone really had control over. She forced her hands to her sides, but continued chewing on her lip. It didn't seem like she had control of anything anymore.

Victoria moved so she was a few strides away from the door leading out into the main hall of the theatre, and looked back at Desmond who now stood a few paces away. His hands were in his sweater pockets and he watched her with a hint of a frown. He could've walked right past her, but he expected this – he must've, because he stood patiently and kept her gaze with raised eyebrows.

Her previous annoyance had mixed too much with her nervousness at... everything, so it had diluted her want to yell at him. She wasn't even sure she wanted to voice her concerns out loud, somehow that would make them more real. But, she fiddled with the sleeve of her sweater and asked in a small voice. "What's going on?" He frowned a bit more but remained silent. "I know you know something, and I know _something_ is going on, and I'm pretty sure that you're the only one to give me any proof that I'm not insane."

"Our kind of people all have a touch of insanity." He gave a lopsided grin.

"Can you be any more specific? Can you actually let me know what's happening to _me?"_ Victoria stared at him, eyes wide. "I don't understand anything, and all these weird things keep happening, and it's really screwing me up–"

Desmond snorted.

"What's going _on?_" Victoria begged.

He paused for a moment. "The less you know, the better."

"Better for who!" She felt her throat tighten and itch. "You don't know what it's like – living with these permanent head aches, no one ever gets it, I always feel like I'm deathly sick, I'm afraid of passing out on the street, I see things that aren't really there, I feel things that I shouldn't feel – sometimes I'm not even sure who I _am_–"

"I do." He said grimly.

She paused, shaking her head. "What?"

"I _do_ know what it's like." He stared her in the eye, and his gaze was so intense she could hardly hold it. "It's _hell_. You feel violated, used. Like you can't do anything about everything, like you're just a lab rat in a world of sadistic scientists. And you try to hide it and pretend it's not happening, but it doesn't do shit because it _is_ happening, whether or not you can handle it." He stopped, the bitterness building up in his throat and he looked absolutely disgusted. She continued to stare, feeling her insides churn, but her attention caught in a trance. "And then, it gets so bad," his voice was quiet but edged, and she wanted to step closer to hear but was afraid she would get cut. "And everyone just keeps looking at you so helplessly, so pitifully, but you know they're just happy it's not happening to them. And there are so many moments where you're someone else completely that for the few moments you think you're yourself you want to do something about it. Stop it. Finally control it. And you think," he shook his head, a short, grim laugh escaping, "how simple a solution–"

"To end it all, yourself." Victoria breathed, not realizing she spoke until he looked at her and nodded. She didn't know what to say, apologizing seemed so wrong, and they fell silent as a man with a broom and garbage can awkwardly passed, watching them warily.

"I didn't know," Victoria finally mumbled, wondering about the times she contemplated sticking her head in the toilet, or stepping in front of a bus, or taking that one wrong step on a roof… She hadn't even realized how many times it had occurred to her.

"You aren't expected to."

Victoria straightened up. "Am I expected to know anything?"

He grimaced. "No."

She groaned, "Desmond, please–"

"This is something much bigger than the comfort of one person. And we don't want to drag anyone into this needlessly."

"'We?'" She frowned.

"Friends." He gave a small smile and she unconsciously clutched her palm remembering the figured wispy voices – _Allies_. "We don't want to bring too much attention to you until we get more information. The more we can keep you out of, the better."

Victoria frowned, picking at her sleeve as the figure's voices spread across her mind. "I think I'm already in it."

His eyes narrowed slightly and brow rose. "What do you mean?"

She shook her head, suddenly wishing she hadn't said anything. She could handle this on her own; she didn't need the added stress of other people. If she could just get used to the visions and headaches, she could figure out how to function. It didn't need to be complicated, or life threatening. The figure's odd words didn't matter; she could ignore them. She could survive without anyone's help. And even if she couldn't – well, it wouldn't be hard to overdose. Victoria turned and walked away, though unable to get to the door as Desmond grabbed her wrist and stopped her easily.

"What do you mean?" He repeated, slower, and she felt very small under his strong stance, despite the only few inch height difference.

"I don't want to know. I can live off Excedrin migraine for the rest of my life if I need to – I don't want to be a part of this, whatever the hell it is."

"You can't choose that."

She glared at him and yanked her arm from his grasp, although it took a few tries. "I can make it happen." She stormed out the door, head spinning. She put as much space between them without running, though he was right behind her.

"You can't runaway from this – it won't stop anything–" He reached for her arm but she spun away from his reach, glaring at him.

"It won't take much for me to make a scene." Victoria said, satisfied that it caused him to pause. "I know the world is going to hell anyway. I don't need details."

"It's not about you–" He growled but Victoria took off, spotting Jenna near the concession stand. She didn't turn around, keeping a quick pace, but she heard him curse and kick a trashcan behind her.

Jenna, along with some others nearby, heard the disruption and looked over. She paused by Jenna, gripping her purse tightly to herself as Jenna quickly caught up with her walking out of the theater. Jenna raised her eyebrows, sending glanced back towards Desmond. "Lover's spat?"

Victoria didn't look at her, wondering what she just got herself into. "Sure."

**.x.**

**A/N:** So yes, as I said, if anyone would like to help/beta/whatever, drop me a message. Have a nice Easter! (Yay for four-day weekends!)


	4. Too Many Stalkers to Choose From

**A/N:** So the plot for the story keeps altering, I have a few different outcomes and ways to take it which are quite frankly confusing me. So we'll just see what happens.

You know, if you asked me where I thought _Assassin's Creed_ was going when the first game first came out, I would've NEVER guess aliens (or the original Earth-iens as a developer vehemently said they were not aliens )… pervasions of religions and myths? Yeah, sure, that was pretty obvious, but really… aliens? That was my reaction at the end of AC2… (very similar to Desmond's actually!)

Oh, by the way, I don't own Assassin's Creed (which is probably a good thing). Though I do own this really confusing story and the lovely Victoria Moore and whatever other OCs that may pop up.

**.x.**

Victoria was bitterly satisfied. This time, _she_ avoided _him_. She smiled grimly to herself when she would walk down the street to go to classes and see him but always managed to slip away from him or go into a crowded public place. She was even guilty of hiding for hours in the women's bathroom then sneaking out the back door of the building. The cynical part of her felt very good to have him struggling the same way she did, and this game of cat and mouse provided a good distraction to her other worries. Such as more visions, many occurring while she was completely conscious so ancient Egyptian snake-handlers mingled with the men who played music on trashcans.

The more time passed, the more frequent her visions or other strange occurrences got. At least two every hour, and soon she fell back into the habit of trapping herself in her apartment. Her grades were falling she knew; she struggled to show up to class, hardly finished her assignments, and couldn't concentrate on her tests. She hadn't even bothered to look at her grades.

Some people tried contacting her; old friends, current associates, family. She ignored most other than the occasional phone call from her mom that she couldn't ignore else her mom would probably drive up and bang her door down.

"_What's the matter, Victoria?"_ Her mother asked one of the days Victoria hadn't left the apartment. She had barely moved from her bed. She curled up on her side with a blanket pulled over like a cocoon as she spoke into her pillow.

"Sick, that's all," she grumbled, adding a cough for good measure, although it sounded pretty bad for being feigned.

"_Well, keep taking medicine and remember to eat and drink plenty of fluids. Lori can buy you some chicken soup so you don't have to leave the house."_ Her mother said.

Victoria grimaced to herself, having failed to mention anything of Lori's leaving. And she wasn't planning to fill her in either. "Yeah, I'll look into that."

"_All right..."_ She paused for a long moment, and Victoria braced herself for more questioning. _"I'll call you later. Feel better and keep in touch."_ Victoria suppressed a relieved sigh and simply nodded.

"I will. Love you." She said quietly, tugging her blanket closer.

"_Love you too, bye."_ Victoria hung up and pulled the comforter over her head. She had thought about telling her mom about what was going on, but her mouth went dry whenever she tried. It just wasn't something she could describe over the phone, and the more she spoke of it out-loud, the more real it became. Another reason why she avoided Desmond – he was a part of this, though how she didn't know, and part of her hoped that if she kept ignoring everything relating to it, her life would turn back to normal.

But even as she thought this it got worse. Her head pounded and stung like a brain freeze but ten times worse. She crushed her eyes shut and forced her face into her pillow, groaning as she pressed her hands to her temples.

"_You're not supposed to be here––" a hand holding a dagger–her hand?–stabbed the armed man._

_A scream, a light, and pain-pain-_pain_._

_The stone room was dank and dark, with no windows. The only light came from a gold object, smoldering like coal. The light pulsed in time with her headache. A step forwards – a shooting pain, bright light._

_A hand made it to the object, hesitantly brushing its fingers across the surface–_

_sharp pain to her temples– burning– fire–_

_Images flashed through her head: horses, carriages, the pyramids and the Coliseum, ancient, sprawling temples and soaring towers. Flying metal birds – birds? they were planes! – rocket ships. Carriages without horses – cars – shining towers – glass sky scrapers. Buildings in the sky, hundred of miles long elevators into the atmosphere, planets spinning around, stars exploding, hunks of giant rock colliding, magma bubbling. _

Victoria screamed and ran to the bathroom, smacking on the bathtub to the coldest setting and sticking her hand under the ice water. She gripped her wrist, staring wide eyed at her fingers, wondering how the burn was so real and yet there were no blisters. She blinked away the gold light at the edge of her vision and the strange holographic-like images still imprinted on her eyes and focused on the water rushing over her fingers.

Once she realized her fingers were numb she turned off the water and wiped them against a towel. She stumbled back to her bed and fell face first into her comforter, groaning as images attacked her head. Figures in white, red crosses, ancient stone towers, round towers with shining sides, shining blue carvings – she couldn't make sense of it. Random pictures and patterns flitted across her vision, but never long enough for her to understand anything. They only made her headache worse.

With a groan she pulled on a pair of jeans and a dark hoodie, deciding she needed to get out of the apartment and get a distraction. People-watching always amused her when she was little, and as her attention span for reading was back down to three words again and watching TV made her headache worse, it looked like this was the best distraction she had.

She pulled a brush through her hair, still avoiding mirrors, and gave a small sigh at the slight calming effect it had. The knots came easily out. At least something was going right.

Outside, Victoria ventured a few blocks farther than usual, putting all her attention into putting one foot in front of the other. She ended up at a Barnes and Noble booksellers and was attracted inside by the displayed book posters and covers. Maybe she couldn't read at the moment, but pictures could do just as well. She wandered around the bookstore, studying book covers and watching people do the same. It was quite amusing to see who picked up what. Most teenagers in the romance or CD and electronics section, some in odd clothing in the graphic novel and manga isle, older women looking at magazines and adult romances, men lingering in the isle with all the "_For Dummies"_ books.

Her eyes caught on some movement outside the large windows, but she missed the action. She continued to stare afterwards, waiting for something else, but when nothing happened she returned to people-watching.

Victoria spent the next... well she didn't know how long she spent watching people and mentally making fun of their clothes or make up or taste in fiction (not that she looked much better). But by the time she started heading back, focusing on keeping her feet to the 21st century's ground rather than an ancient dirt path, it was dark. Well, as dark as it could get with the city lights.

Her street, however, was generally darker and less crowded than others, being mainly a residence block rather than lined with lit store signs. It rarely bothered her, but as she neared her street her pace slowed. She felt the familiar prick of eyes on her and immediately looked behind her, catching no one but when she turned around she noticed a group of males huddled on her corner.

_Shit._

Groups were generally okay, but lingering groups–not as much. Lingering groups of males–even worse. Add darkness to that and Victoria knew she'd have to figure out a different route to her room, and she _really_ didn't want to use up her small amount of brain power on that.

Victoria crossed to the other side of the street, narrowly avoiding death-by-taxi, and pulled her hood over her head, stuffing her hands into her pockets afterwards. But it didn't matter–one look their way and she knew the men had already locked on. She realized too late how much of a victim she looked like; head bowed, shoulders hunched, fingers fiddling with anything when they weren't hidden away in pockets, stare focused on the ground. _Damn it,_ she had been trying to work on that.

She continued down the street, watching from the corner of her eye as their heads turned with her. She gripped her keys, arranging them between her fingers as she had learned in her self-defense crash course. A few men broke off from the group, strolling parallel to her and settling around the entrance to her building like they knew what she was trying to do. What the crap? Why _her?_ She wasn't that pretty–especially in her oversized hoodie. Though she was carrying her purse which was weighed down with her notepad, small sketchbook, and two books. She had grabbed it out of habit, her pre-abducted self never having left the house without a notepad and a book. The idiots probably thought she carried something of actual value. Ha!

She grasped her purse straps with one hand, the other still hiding with her keys in her pocket, and tensed as she prepared to cross the street. There was nowhere else to go without them following, and Victoria was hoping they'd loose interest if she plowed through them and took off down the hall. The security in the building wasn't that great, but she was praying they wouldn't know that.

"Hey," a hand brushed against her shoulder and she whipped around, keys bared like blades.

"F–_shit_, Desmond!" She hissed at the currently dark grey clad man. She stuck her keyed hand back into her pocket. "I almost went Wolverine on you! Don't do that!"

He raised his hands up in unbothered defense. "You wouldn't have gotten far."

She raised her eyebrows at him, trying to see his face through the shadow cast by his hood but getting nothing. Then she remembered she was pissed at and avoiding him. "What are you doing here?" She spat, glaring at the ground. She looked at the toes of her blue converses peeking over the edge of the curb, their reflection appearing in the tiny stream of run-off heading for the sewers.

"Saving your ass." Desmond answered easily, adding after she didn't respond, "You're welcome."

"I'm not planning on thanking you for anything." She glared at a gum wrapper that floated past her shoes. "Go away, I don't want you to know where I live."

He snorted but took a moment to sort through his reply options. "Oh I see how it is. You don't want a handsome 'stalker' knowing where you live, but you don't mind the ugly thugs waiting outside your building."

Victoria snorted a laugh. "So you admit you're a stalker?"

"Depends." She glanced up to see him scratching his chin in fake thought. Another glance to the three men across the street showed she was still a target. She looked back at the ground as Desmond continued. "Do you admit that I'm handsome?"

She couldn't help the smile and laugh that fell from it. "I'll find another way for you to admit it." She glanced from under her hood at the three men by her building. They all looked taller than her, one being much larger all around. They were only a few feet from the door, meaning in the time it took her to cross the street they could easily block her. _Crap,_ she pulled her hood farther down, messing with the hemming and biting her lip. _I'm screwed._

A hand passed by the small of her back, fingers pressing into her side gently. She glared up at Desmond, though didn't move away from his arm. Although she couldn't see his eyes, his attention seemed focused on the men now openly watching them. Before she could say anything he started forwards, tugging her after. "Follow me."

Victoria thought about twisting from his hold–his arm was really barely touching her waist, it wouldn't be that hard–but the idea of trying to escape him was even more laughable than avoiding the thugs for some reason. For a moment, she thought his hood was pure white and she could smell kicked up dust and felt unforgiveable sun against her back, but it quickly passed.

"Do you know what time it is?" One of the thugs asked once they were halfway in the street. He had some accent, probably Mexican of some sort but she couldn't be sure. The question, which should've been innocent, was dripping with ulterior motive, almost sounding like sarcasm.

"Not exactly, but it's late enough for little boys to be in bed." Desmond sneered as they reached the sidewalk, "Why aren't you tucked in?"

_This dude is crazy,_ he must be. What idiot so obviously pisses off a thug? Another few yards and she could've made a run for it. Not now though, the man's face contorted into anger, his expression scarier in the dim light. At that, Desmond's arm turned iron. His hand pressed into Victoria's side, pulling her other side against his. Yeah, no way she could run now. She clutched her keys and wrapped her fingers around her purse straps so hard her knuckles turned white.

"You lookin' for a fight, boy?" The man growled. He must've had a bad day, he looked pissed enough to behead someone. He had a round face with a dark beard across his cheeks and upper lip, dark eyes glaring and had one of those stupid gang rags pulled over his head. The larger man next to him was bald with a disturbingly square jaw set into a mean look. The last man, medium high but with muscles of a wrestler wore a dark sleeveless shirt, exposing his tattooed arms that crossed over his chest. He looked rather unbothered, if a little sour, though his eyes racked over Victoria's form. It didn't bother her much other than a discomfort of too much attention, as her jeans were relatively relaxed and sweatshirt obscured the other interest.

Desmond grinned. "Nah, just trying to get home. I recommend you step aside."

"Like hell," the man spat at Desmond's shoes. He waved the muscular man forwards, "Get her purse."

She was baffled by their bluntness and almost fell over when Desmond shoved her behind him. "But see, I like her purse where it is." He said.

"And I'd like to see what's in her purse," the tattooed man said, moving forwards but Desmond moved her from his reach.

"There's nothing in here," Victoria said, her voice unsatisfying soft. "Seriously, just books. I have about five bucks on me if you want to by a happy meal or something."

"You're not giving them anything." Desmond said lowly, catching her hand and giving it a squeeze.

"If it gets them to leave, they can have the five bucks. My phone too, it's old, I don't really care as long as it gets us inside." Victoria reasoned, though even as she spoke it she knew it wouldn't happen.

"Would you leave us alone for five bucks?" Desmond asked dryly, knowing the answer already.

"Let's see about that." The thug cracked his knuckles while the muscular one stalked over. Without hesitation Desmond landed a punch squarely to his face, causing the man to stumble back and clasp his nose, swearing rather loudly. Desmond side-stepped the group, pulling Victoria with him until their backs were to the wall rather than the street. Then he fell into a fighting stance, hands fisted in front of him at the ready, as the first man came at him. He threw a punch but Desmond easily knocked it away, catching his arm and twisting it so the man was thrown off balance and cried out in pain. Desmond swiftly kicked his legs out from under him, sending the man to his knees before raising his elbow and jamming it painfully into the back of the thug's neck. Victoria and the two other men watched wide-eyed as the thug fell forwards, face planting into the sidewalk, unconscious.

This brought on more attention as three other men from the original group they had broke off from came running over to join the fight. Desmond backed Victoria up against the wall while still facing his opponents, one hand behind him to guide her. "Stay here," he said just as three of the five men brandished knives.

_Holy crap–_all she wanted to do was go home and sleep. Why was life so complicated?

The muscular man, nose bleeding but hands free, threw another punch Desmond's way, his other hand attempting to take hold of his shoulder. He caught the side of Desmond's face as Victoria ducked behind him to avoid the hit, but Desmond aimed another fist at his nose. The thug leaned away from the hit but Desmond immediately sent his knee into the man's groin sending him to the ground, groaning. He tried to knee his face as well, but the thug leaned and stumbled out of the way.

Immediately a knife was aimed at Desmond's midsection but he brushed it aside easily, grabbing the handle and yanking it sideways to loosen the user's hold. Victoria thought she heard a snap as the blade was released and reclaimed by Desmond. He flipped the knife in his hold so the handle was out, and he smashed the hilt into one of the thug's temple. While he was occupied with that another thug tried to stab him followed by another's punch to the head.

A hand landed on Victoria's arm and she was yanked violently away. She found herself held against the tattooed man with a knife–where the hell did he get that?–pressed to her neck.

"Purse," he growled. Desmond's head snapped towards them but before he could do anything he ducked another attack and pulled the man over him, sending him into the brick wall.

Victoria clutched her purse straps, moving them slowly from her shoulder. The man yanked them the rest of the way off, letting go of her and digging through the white bag instead. The perfect time to bolt; the door was only maybe five strides away, but her feet were frozen to the spot, her head pounding and mind spinning. For a moment she thought she'd vomit and pass out, but she took a step forwards through the haze and tried to keep moving.

"No you don't–" the man grabbed her again and pulled her away. Somehow the whole commotion was migrating from the sidewalk towards the small maintenance alley. He shoved her against a wall, pinning her with his body while he stuffed his hands into her sweatshirt pocket. He found her phone and threw it to the ground, then yanking the keys from her grip and threw them away as well. When he dug into her jean pockets she started screaming.

"Shut up!" He growled, knocking her head against the wall, although it was only an inch away so the only damage was an intensified headache. _It's not like I should've be used to that by now._ He spun her around so he could get to her back pockets, pulling out a thin wad of dollar bills, spilling a few pennies on the ground. He pocketed the five dollar bills but sounded pissed.

"You worthless piece of–" He shoved her into the wall in frustration, her hood falling down. Her hands scrapped against the rough brick as she caught herself, her elbows cracking slightly. She turned her head to the side, regarding him with wide eyes as he reached down to grab a knife that must've slipped from another's grasp. A few yards away in the mouth of the alley Desmond was handling the other men alone. Her attacker started heading that way, completely ignoring her as she inched away from the wall. Surely Desmond couldn't handle all five at once, but she didn't want to find out either.

Trying to calm her breathing but failing, she kept her eyes on the man's back as she grabbed her purse from the ground where it had been abandoned and grasped the straps, wrapping them once around her hand. She stalked behind the man, heart pounding, and once close enough she swung her bag into her attacker's head.

It made a satisfying _clunk!_ and caused him to stumble but not fall as she hoped. Instead the man–the armed man, she remembered, _crap_–turned his attention solely on her.

"You little bitch," he growled, closing the distance between them without a problem. He clamped down his large hand around her neck and scowled. She noticed the blood around his face from his now crooked nose, and his glinting eyes. _That wasn't such a good idea,_ Victoria thought as she tried desperately not to panic, gripping his fingers attempting to pull them off. Luckily he wasn't squeezing yet, but the controlling hold left her little room for optimism.

"Let's see what else you're good for." The thug slammed her against the wall–_again_–but this time yanked the sweatshirt over her head. She squirmed to keep it on and shoved at him, but every time she pushed him away he came back harder, pinning her against the brick. Somehow he got the sweatshirt off, leaving her in only a cami, and started attacking her neck, mouth moving across her skin–_biting_ it–like a wild animal. Her head swam and she wondered how she would ever be able to get oxygen again as she clawed at his face, breath quick and shallow. He hardly cared, catching her wrists and trapping them in one of his own and pulling them over her head, using his other to rip open her jeans.

She couldn't breathe let alone scream, her voice instead coming out in squeaks and cries as he covered her mouth with his, savagely making entrance while simulations working the jeans off her waist. She leaned back against the wall, brick scratching her bare shoulders, and flung her face from side to side to keep him away. She lashed out blindly with her legs, catching his shin once and finally kneeing him in the groin. In his moment of pain and instability she dove to the side and scrambled around on the ground, limbs shaking too much to stand up. She cast her head about, looking for something of use, and managed to find her keys. Gripping them fiercely between her fingers she flung herself around to find the tattooed man stalking towards her, and grunts and cries of pain somewhere to her right. He came at her, clawing to take hold of her again and she lashed out, slamming her keyed fist into his face several times. She couldn't make out the effects, but he stumbled away from her then seemed to have tripped and fell to the ground. She tensed, waiting for another strike, but he didn't get back up.

Mind confused but body still shaking, she scrambled to her feet and found herself moving towards Desmond. He too had moved farther into the alley during the fight, and three men littered the path around him. Unconscious or mindful but groaning, none of them were going to get up any time soon. He seemed quite unbothered, unarmed despite the disposed of knifes nearby, while the other man was shaking. She gripped her keys tighter as the man looked at her and she was almost ready to attack him herself when he threw his knife down and ran away.

She heard Desmond snicker and heard herself let out a breath. How much she simply wanted to sleep now.

Suddenly a hand grabbed her leg and she screamed. She sent a kick out, her foot colliding with some groaning fleshy object but the movement sent her stumbling back to the ground. She scrambled back away from the moaning man until her back scraped against the wall, her chest heaving. Her vision blurred causing her panic to rise until she realized it was only because of tears.

Her head spun and ears rang until she realized the ringing was really her name being called. She jumped when a man knelt in front of her but forced herself to calm down when she realized it was Desmond, the hood of his grey sweatshirt down around his neck. His eyebrows and lips were curved in concern as he spoke softly. "Are you okay?"

Victoria forced her spinning thoughts into order then mentally evaluated herself. Well, she tried, until she noticed her mental state seemed to be fairing worse than her body. But Desmond looked her over, and she followed his gaze. Her sleeveless white shirt was disheveled but in one piece, though she felt the skin on her shoulders stinging. Her jeans were ripped and open, awkwardly hanging slightly below her hips. She tried to care, but found herself unable to muster up enough embarrassment. She flexed her fingers, her palms stinging and red but otherwise unhurt, though her knuckles of her right hand were sore and she wondered if punching someone was really worth it.

A hand coming near her face diverted her attention and she immediately flinched away, pressing deeper into the wall. Maybe it would swallow her completely, then all her problems would be solved. It took her another moment to calm the panic and remind herself it was only Desmond. He had pulled back but kept his eyes on her face. When he had her attention again he hesitantly reached out. She shut her eyes tight, biting her lip, unsure what she expected but it was definitely not a soft brush of fabric against her cheeks. Victoria opened her eyes and looked at him oddly as he let out a relieved breath. She then noticed the red stained on the sleeve of his sweatshirt he had wiped against her face. Hands flying to her face she felt the remnants of blood but found no wound. She remembered the man's broken nose and calmed down, though the thought of how the blood had transferred–his lips roughly on hers–brought fresh tears and she spat on the ground feeling the great need to rip her mouth apart with a tooth brush or maybe a chainsaw.

It took her another moment–her head still pounding and only getting worse–to notice Desmond walking away. Her heart jumped into her throat, choking her. He was going to leave her here, among these _animals_, alone, in the dark. She couldn't make it back to her apartment by herself, she couldn't even think of standing up at the moment. He'd leave and someone else would show up and–and–and–

Desmond picked up her sweatshirt. Then her purse. Then turned to walk back towards her. _Oh,_ she felt a breath leave her throat. As he passed the tattooed man he slammed his foot into the man's already bloody face. The thug didn't move. As Desmond neared, she found her voice.

"He's not moving," she said, unable to voice her thoughts more bluntly.

"I wish he was," Desmond growled, casting the man a glare. "Then I'd have another excuse to punch him."

Victoria thought for a moment over if she wanted this man dead or alive but in pain, and what she would do if she could... but her mind kept coming back to her bed and how the blue of her comforter reminded her of the ocean and how she simply wanted to drown in it. Besides, he didn't actually _do_ much–she was probably just over reacting.

Desmond held out her sweatshirt and she took it, her hands still shaking slightly, and clutched it to herself. Her shoulders shook but she couldn't figure out how to pull it over her head, so she simply held onto it like a five year old would a teddy bear.

Desmond stood in front of her, but at a comfortable distance away, hand outstretched uncertainly. She stared at it for a moment before struggling to her feet herself, leaning against the wall until she really believed her legs could handle the weight. She tugged her pants up but had to keep hold of them else they'd fall when she moved, as they were not the most hugging pair she had, especially with a ripped front. The bastard had somehow managed to not only pull the button off–which was cheaply sewn on anyway so would've fallen off eventually–but broke the zipper too. She tugged her shirtfront down self-consciously; glad to start feeling familiar emotions seep through her numbed barrier.

After a moment of making sure she could move and watching Desmond carefully, who watched her in return with a pained expression, Victoria walked shakily out of the alley, avoiding the bodies. Desmond followed quickly after, her purse still slung over his shoulder and she weakly made a mental note to tease him about that later.

**.x.**

**A/N:** Just a few more notes. In this chapter, and the next few, Victoria doesn't think much of the attack and attempted rape, figuring she's just overreacting. But I just wanted to say that whenever someone enters your personal space without your consent, it's rape. They don't have to have sex for it to be considered rape. So whatever did or did not happen, it still _is_ a big deal if it harmed you physically, mentally, or emotionally.

That, and I made a slight adjustment to the first chapter, but as it's so very slight I'll tell you here: where it said Apollo now says Eros.


	5. Drugs and Coffee Can Fix Everything

**A/N: **Things will start to get a bit confusing now. I'm trying to incoperate some other things, I just have to settle on the idea and proper way to introducing it. So if you get confused at some parts, it's okay. It'll work itself out, and if it doesn't… well we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. (I may end up having to post a tie-in story with more developed scenes, since they're not quite fitting in here to tell what needs to be told. I'm working on it, don't worry.)

**.x.**

She walked over to the entrance of her building, forcing her chin up as it continued to press meekly against her chest. Desmond's strides overwhelmed hers easily and he grabbed the door for her before following her in. They walked past the man on duty who sat behind a desk, feet up and crossed near the sign-in page. The worthless man was sleeping, through all that commotion, and she couldn't help the nasty glare she bore into his head, wishing her gaze really was like daggers. She ignored the sign in sheet and Desmond didn't seem to mind (in fact he seemed to be on a similar thought process as her if his sour expression was any indication) and kept walking. Victoria slowed by the elevators; she hated them in general and it wasn't as if she couldn't walk three sets of stairs, but more than not she avoided the staircases. Her phobia of the dangers of dingy stairwells and those who lingered in them, however, usually won out over the fear of a Tower of Terror elevator ride and enclosed, vulnerable spaces. But if today was any indication, Desmond could more than handle whoever might be lurking there, so she walked past and headed for the stairs, worried that if she stopped walking now, she wouldn't make it to her room. Desmond trailed behind her a pace away, careful not to touch her, and slowed behind her as she had to mentally prepare herself for going up stairs. Her legs protested and she swore she was going to fall and snap her neck, but after the first few steps she made it up without shaking, Desmond always a step behind her. Part of her knew that if she did fall, he would catch her.

It did not occur to her until after she entered her hallway–which was terribly stupid of her, usually her paranoia was right on time–that Desmond could have easily been one of those people who lurked in staircases and could've done who knows what with much ease. But, she cast a look at him over her shoulder, the way his eyes were trained on her with such concern made those thoughts vanish.

When she paused at her door part of her screamed at herself for leading him straight to her home. Hadn't she been trying to avoid that the whole time? Then the other part of her told her to shut the hell up and just go inside and take a shower and see what medicine she could stuff herself with. Moving to get her keys out from her Wolverine-grip she noticed marks of red on the jagged metal. She stared at it, mind blank, suddenly not knowing what to do-–what she had done.

How hard had she hit him? Why wasn't he moving? Was it her fault? Maybe he was just knocked out? His nose had been bloody, maybe she didn't actually do any damage. How could she?

Desmond gently pried the keys from her grasp, and once her mind came back to her she let them go all too easily. She needed soap, or hand sanitizer, or something to get the stain removed from her hands. Desmond wiped the blood off the keys on the edge of his sweatshirt and part of her wondered why anyone would do that while he tried one of the keys into the few locks. After a moment of struggling, he opened the door but when Victoria forgot how to keep moving he guided her in by the arm. She flinched at first, but didn't move from his touch and walked into the small living room.

Victoria turned to him as he removed his hand, before noticing the door still partly ajar. She stared at it for a moment, her mind processing slowly, until she looked back at Desmond. He gave a lopsided grin and she weakly smiled back. He let her keep the ability to kick him out if she wanted, and she appreciated it. She wasn't thinking when she automatically walked back to the door and shut and locked all the several locks, her body deciding before her brain fully caught up.

Victoria looked back at him, standing somewhat awkwardly in her small version of a living room, and as she moved near again she wondered the pros and cons of the situation. Well, tried to, but her mind, still fizzled and cluttered from the attack, pushed her paranoia away to be replaced with a choking fear of people and being alone. She went to her room, mumbling something about pants that even she didn't quite catch, and quickly changed into polyester pajama pants, free of any rips or tears.

She found him leaning against the back of one of her small, used ikea arm chairs her and Lori had trash-picked, her purse placed beside it. When he looked up at her she finally noticed a dark bruise growing near his jaw and she bit her lip. Why did she have to pull people into her own troubles?

Without a word she found her way into the small kitchen off the living room, not really feeling in control of her body, and grabbed a soft icepack from the freezer. She pulled a clean dishtowel from the handle of the oven and wrapped it around the pack as she went back to Desmond. Something flashed at the edge of her vision and she paused to glanced towards the far wall of her kitchen. She swore there was some strange man standing there for a moment, watching her… The ice pack almost fell from her slack grip and she quickly returned her focus to the present and important. Desmond raised his eyebrow as she approached, and flitted his eyes over her form with a creased forehead. When she shot a quick glance behind her, the strange man was gone.

Victoria held the ice pack out to him, noticing his confusion. "You have a bruise on your cheek."

"What?" His fingers pressed into his skin at this statement and he blinked at the revelation. She held it against his cheek gently until he finally took it from her grasp. "Thanks." There was a long pause as they simply looked at each other awkwardly. "Are you all right?" He asked, and she noticed his frown.

"Yeah, just..." her throat itched and eyes burned and she shook her head and walked back to the kitchen. That sort of question always brought on a fresh bout of tears. She took a breath and grabbed for a water bottle from a twelve pack sitting on the floor before opening her medicine cabinet.

"You have a whole pharmacy in here," Desmond said from behind her, making her jump. She hadn't heard him follow at all.

"If only any of it helped." She muttered, glancing at him for a moment before inspecting her choices. She really didn't know why she was searching for something, but she didn't bother to think about it. "Do you need anything?" She asked automatically.

"Nah I'll be fine," he sounded as if he had more to say, but never finished. She let her hand hover above a few bottles and boxes before snatching one out. Excedrin back and body––that was pretty strong and gave her an actual excuse to take. While she wasn't too sore now, she knew by the next morning she wouldn't want to move. Victoria twisted open the water and the medicine bottle, struggling with the "child-proof" lid for a moment of failed coordination before pouring some of the red and white pills into her palm. Too many fell out all at once––about six or so––and she knew she could only take two max. She started pouring some back before slowing to a pause. Victoria stared at the little capsules, clean and smooth. So innocent looking. So easy to swallow, as many as she needed––like candy.

She didn't realize she was raising her hand towards her mouth until Desmond snatched her wrist. Yelping, she pulled wildly from his grasp and stumbled several steps back, wide-eyed.

"What the hell was that for?" Victoria cried, noticing the pills scattered on the floor between them, gleaming against the dirty cream tiles.

"That's not going to solve anything," Desmond said, jaw clenched and looking rather frightening with part of his cheek dark and swelling slightly. She had lost track of the icepack.

She glared open-mouthed at him, offended and angry and ready to spit a hundred hateful things to him, but they flew across her mind too quick for her to choose. She almost denied it but settled for giving him a nasty look before brushing past him and stomping into her room, slamming the door shut––like a stupid teenager caught in the act of sneaking out. Her pitifulness and childishness pissed her off even more and she slumped down onto her bed, face down in the green pillow. She was twenty-one for god's sake! Why was she acting like a ten year old!

That's when it started, and she couldn't stop. Her breathing hitched and tears fell as she desperately tried to swallow them away. Her head pounded as she managed to squirm into her blankets, pulling the comforter over her head and curling into a ball, wrapped in her cocoon. She picked at the tender skin of her lips, peeling off the dead flaps and rubbing the back of her hand against the lingering feeling of that man's mouth on hers. The taste of blood and smoke assaulted her nostrils and throat at the memory and her stomach churned. Victoria rolled over and dug herself out from her blankets, not wanting to have to find clean sheets if she were to vomit as the nausea only grew.

Breathing deeply, trying to control her sobs that had gotten worse, she clamped her eyes shut. None of the lights of her room were on, but her head still pounded and swirled and she covered her eyes in search of a deeper darkness. Images swirled across her vision of golden balls and unfamiliar bedrooms and blankets, though the feelings remained the same. Voices started seeping through her mind, in languages she knew she didn't know but somehow understood anyway. Men and women, young and old, all with a comforting word. It helped somewhat, but also added to her list of creepy things happening recently. But she didn't fight it, succumbing to the less painful darkness.

_Fingers brushed through her hair, gentling petting her scalp as the other hand held her close, deep coos filling the dark space in contrast to her own wracking cries. "It's all right, my lamb. Do not fret, I'm here, I'll always be here."_

**.x.**

Victoria couldn't be sure how much time had passed when she opened her eyes again, calmer. Her eyes were still wet but she was no longer lost to hysterics. Once she got her bearings she noticed a man sitting in a desk chair pulled up a few feet from her bed. Her whole body flinched and she almost screamed until she recognized the light grey sweatshirt and calmed down again. Right, he was still here. She should've kicked him out when she had the chance. But she hadn't heard him come in, she must've fallen asleep.

Desmond was hunched over in the chair, hands clutching his head that shook every now and then. His jaw looked no worse but no better either. He must've felt her gaze as he suddenly looked up and locked eyes with her. He looked haggard and out of place, as if thrown into a situation he wasn't sure how to handle. _Ha_, she mentally smirked to herself, too tired to physically try and manipulate her own lips, _join the club._

For a long moment they simply stared at each other. Victoria didn't have enough energy to think up a comment, and he seemed too bewildered to place his own words. While focusing on Desmond as he tried to reclaim the power of speak, she suddenly thought she saw a figure standing behind him, golden, and seemingly with wings though it may have been a trick of the light and his flowing robes.

"Are you okay?" He finally asked. She blinked and the figure disappeared. She shook her head and gave Desmond a sour look. It had been a stupid question, and he seemed to agree with this by the way he grimaced. Before she could say anything he stood up and moved from the room. "Be right back."

Her chest tensed and heart pounded harder as he left. No, he needed to be there. Now. Where she could see him. Didn't he say he wouldn't leave her? She almost pushed herself up to find him when he came back and held a mug out to her. It was her old one, with ringed stains from years of tea and coffee, with blue and white butterflies flitting across the sides. She smiled at the sight of it, then looked up at him with a frown.

"Coffee," he explained, not moving from his place in front of her bed, "I made some while you were, uh... I thought it might help."

Victoria stared at it for a long moment, her hair falling in front of her face uncomfortably from her lying position. Finally she found a way to push herself up on her arms until she sat up, shirt slightly askew. Taking the mug from his steady hands she pulled her knees up and stared down at the liquid before taking a sip. It was hot, scalding her lip and roof of her mouth, but she didn't mind. She took another sip and pictured the liquid boiling her mouth, setting fire to her throat and reaching down her chest and into her fingertips, cleansing her.

She sighed out the heat. The coffee needed more sugar, but the half-and-half was spot-on and she didn't really care how it tasted. She simply enjoyed the heat and addicting quality it had. Noticing movement, Victoria flicked her eyes over her mug to Desmond, who had moved back to his chair. They slipped into another wave of awkward silence, broken by her occasional sips, as they watched each other. She wondered what to do with him now.

By the time her coffee was mostly gone, Victoria spoke up but had to clear her throat and start again. "You can help yourself to coffee, too."

Desmond grimaced. "Already did, I figured I should stop at four."

She raised an eyebrow, wondering how long she had spent curled up in her bed. "Trying to avoid caffeine poisoning?"

"Something like that," he gave a weak grin. "Feeling any better?"

The question made her want to burst into tears again, but she swallowed another mouth full of coffee and nodded. "It really wasn't that bad, you know... just an accumulation of everything."

"Don't underestimate it." He paused, then motioned to his head. "Has anything gotten better?" He asked, watching her carefully while he leaned over to prop his elbows on his knees.

Victoria shook her head carefully, then had to shove some loose hair behind her ear. "Worse."

He frowned. "It will get better, eventually."

"Speaking from experience?" She spat at him, before remembering he _had_ claimed to understand. She scowled into her now empty mug.

"I'm not lying to you." His frown deepened.

"You're not telling me much either."

Desmond threw his hands up. "Last I heard, you didn't want anything to do with it!"

"I don't!" She shouted, holding his gaze with a glare for a moment before pulling her knees closer to her chest. There was a sharp pain in her temple followed by a wave of dizziness that made it hard for her to even sit up. She pressed her eyes shut, having no idea what she really wanted.

Victoria heard him sigh, another awkward silence filling the gap. Then she heard his breathing shift as if he was going to start again but he got cut off. Something buzzed, followed by a low beeping and she looked over at him with a raised eyebrow. He pulled something out of his pocket; _A cell phone_, she assumed. He frowned, then glanced at her while getting up. "I'll be right back."

Victoria watched as he left her room, putting the phone to his ear as he left. The old floor creaked slightly so she could hear as he moved farther into the living room and start hissing into the phone. She waited a moment, expecting him to leave the apartment, but she never heard the door open or the jiggle of locks. She stared after him as he spoke, softly at first before rising in irritation. He didn't seem to be trying to hide the conversation, so she listened in without guilt.

"Did you not hear anything I just said?" He was growling, "I'm _not_ going to start questioning her _now_––I _know _you would, because you're a prick!" He paused and she heard him shifting and the familiar creak of the floor, figuring he was pacing. "I don't really give a shit how pressed you are for information, I'm not going to–Yes, I'm aware we're on a tight schedule! But she is in no state for any sort of questioning, even on her terms." He paused again before growling. "Damn it, Shaun, just give me back to Lucy!"

Part of Victoria wanted to snicker at the exchange, wishing she had heard the other end of it, but the rest of her was too worn out to actually release any sort of amusement. She heard him pacing back towards her room and held her breath. "Just shut the hell up, Shaun. We're not Abstergo and we shouldn't act like them either!" He paused for whatever this Shaun was saying, and Victoria took a moment to file away the name Abstergo in her mind. It sounded familiar, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Suddenly his voice rose so much she was sure her neighbors heard. "No, because I'm not going to treat her like a damn lab rat!"

There was a loud clattering and she jumped, staring at the door, blinking. _A lab rat?_

After a moment she took thinking over his words, Desmond stalked back into her room. Victoria stared at him, brows furrowed. He grimaced, aware she had heard the exchange though not appearing too bothered by it. They simply watched each other for a moment, something that seemed more and more common, she realized.

Then: "A lab rat?" Victoria had to swallow thickly to quell her dry throat. She did not like the idea, even more so because it seemed like her so-called "allies" were wanting to interrogate and do tests on her. _Wonderful, just what I needed._

Desmond let out a heavy sigh and ran his hand through his hair. "Don't worry, I won't let it get to that."

Victoria frowned, piecing things together. "You were a lab rat."

He sighed again, shoulders hunching slightly. "Yeah, for a bit."

"Is that how this happened?" She motioned to her head, remembering him saying he had similar effects as she.

Desmond let out another long sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. "I... thought you didn't want information." He leaned back and put his hands in his pockets. "That you wanted to handle things yourself."

She threw her hands up in the air and flopped back down on the bed dramatically, feeling more like a child with each passing second. Or bi-polar. Or maybe both. Turning her head away from him she growled, "Sorry I asked."

**.x.**

**A/N:** I think up these stories for my own amusement, but I write, edit, and post them for yours. Please do your part in making sure this story doesn't remain eternally in my head.


	6. Isn't Assassin an Occupation?

**A/N**: I'm hoping to lengthen the chapters a bit. Before I had wanted them all around the same size, but I've always enjoyed _reading_ long chapters, so I'll try to pass that along here. However, some areas have natural breaks that will work well for the end of chapters, so I'm not sure when this lengthening will happen.

I apologize for my absences and lack of particularly long chapters to make up for it. But if any of you know anything about me, you really shouldn't be surprised. One-shots make me happy. Chapters frighten me. But Desmond makes me happy, so I guess it all evens out in the end.

Also, I've given up at attempting to stick to complete canon. Ubisoft just likes messing with us and our plots. So plot wise, I'm just gonna right whatever the hell I want, AU or otherwise. But don't worry, I still see it necessary to keep all characters in character to the best of my ability.

**.x.**

As Victoria laid on her stomach with her face turned towards the wall her bed was pressed against, Desmond stalked off somewhere. She didn't move, expecting him to finally get fed up with her and leave, but she never heard the door. Frowning, she took a deep breath to try to ease her pounding head. She shut her eyes and tried to clear her mind, hand groping for one of the stuffed toys she still kept on her bed. Instead, it brushed against the cool wall. She shuffled over to press her forehead against the surface, sighing.

The wall was cool, a change from the easy temperature of the room: a gentle warmth that enveloped her bare skin. Light incense she didn't recognize hovered about the air, its smoke lost in the darkness that wrapped the room. Her bed was a very large, pillow-like matt with smaller rugs and pillows lining its sides, all with a velvety soft touch. A small breeze whispered through the drape-covered window, followed by a light caress against her skin, warmth penetrating from the invisible fingertips. The bed dipped slightly at the new weight, and she moved her hand to where she knew his face was, even if she could not see it.

Jerking at the strange sensation, her eyes shot open and she looked around her flat in wide-eyed confusion, the lofty scent of incense gone. Her head throbbed, as usual, and she groaned and rubbed at her face, recognizing the symptoms of another lapse. Victoria was getting them more and more often, bits and pieces of a life not her own, snippets of feelings or senses, until something jarred her back. But this strange one in particular continued to attack her mind: a dark, warm room with a strange but comforting presence. Sometimes it was outside, still warm, with a shining city in the background. So far she could glean no other information from these particular dream-like scenes.

Frowning, her eyes found the glowing numbers of her iPod player and clock. _12:31am_. It was later than she expected, not that her sleeping schedule existed enough for her body to actually know the difference between late and early anymore. Still, didn't the man she knew was still in the other room have something else to do at this time of night––er, morning?

Victoria rubbed at her eyes, her mind slowly waking back up and questions followed. Desmond, and whoever he was talking to had mentioned lab rats. What did a lab rat have to do with her screwed up brain? She hadn't been taken by humans, she knew that much. Sure, they looked humanoid but they were larger, shimmering, and held a presence no human could ever muster. Not to mention the strange ability to speak without making any verbal noise and instead sending their thoughts straight into her own. She shivered at the memory. It was more invasive than what that thug tried to do.

But she hadn't been a lab rat. She didn't know _what_ she had been, but a lab rat was such a human term––the kind they use in movies with crazy scientists. With aliens, you were experimented on. Or something cow related.

Of course, she was basing her information off of the Hollywood industry, which was just about as crazy as she was.

_Ugh,_ her thoughts continued to spin in circles and lead to dead ends. Victoria rolled out of bed and stumbled out of her room, pausing in the doorway. She looked into the open archway to the small kitchen where she found Desmond––making more coffee. She snickered before she could stop herself, and he gave her a short glance.

"Have you eaten today?" He asked after a moment, and she sighed. _Back on this again?_ She opened her mouth to an affirmative but snide comment, when she realized the most she had was probably a bagel. Somehow, he was able to read her without even having to look, as he motioned to the refrigerator, "I saw some microwaveable mac 'n' cheese in the freezer, I recommend you try that before you pass out."

Victoria shook her head but found herself getting the small package anyway. "Don't you have something better to do at this time of night than inform me of what I have in my fridge?"

"Funnily enough, no." He threw a smirk her direction and Victoria frowned while stabbing the plastic covering with a fork. Her hand was shaking, but she didn't care––as long as she didn't need to handle a knife, she was good. She stuffed the small black container in the microwave and smashed the buttons to start, feeling Desmond's eyes on her.

"Are you feeling any better?" He asked softly. She glanced at him, then shook her head with a dry laugh.

"After everything that's happened, this isn't the worst." She had already cried herself dry for the day, and was still fighting off her regular dizziness and headaches in addition to a lingering exhaustion that she couldn't give into properly because of jitters. That period of time when she was so tired, she wasn't tired any more. Otherwise, she probably would've broken down into more sobs and then promptly fainted where she stood.

The coffee maker growled, and Desmond adjusted to lean backwards against the countertop, hands on either side of him while still watching her. She shot a glance towards him, then the coffee pot––studying the slow stream of dark liquid as it dripped into the pot––then focused on the microwave. She watched as the black box slowly turn, the cheese bubbling, and idly wondered if this was adding to her brain damage via radiation, or gamma-rays, or whatever the hell they claimed on the internet. At least then she'd have an excuse that wouldn't label her a lunatic.

Victoria glanced over at Desmond, the silence unnerving her as he continued to watch her. She felt like a subject underneath a penetrating gaze used to study her thoroughly, and she really didn't need any more of that. "What are you doing?" She asked uncomfortably.

"What?" He quirked an eyebrow.

"Why are you here? What do you want from me?" Victoria continued, pushing back from the counter to stand with her arms tightly crossed. He didn't answer for a long moment, his gaze turning to the whitewashed wall in thought. "Well?"

"I just want to make sure you're all right." He said it so simply and innocently that she may have believed him, but remembered their previous conversation and scoffed instead.

"So what about this lab rat thing? What do your friends want with me? Because I'm telling you right now," she strode up to him and stuck her finger out, "I don't need any more crap to handle, especially for a bunch of strangers."

Desmond's dark eyes flickered down to her threatening finger but didn't move. "I'm afraid we don't get a choice in the matter."

"I don't need a choice––I'm simply not participating!" She strained to keep her voice down as the coffee maker growled behind her words. Biting her lip, his words replayed and she asked in a more quiet voice, "'We?'"

Desmond's face was hard, jaw tight. "I didn't get a say either." She frowned and crossed her arms again, and he seemed to read her mind as he stood up properly and leaned towards her. She found herself leaning away. "And believe me, you can't avoid it. I tried, for _years_ I tried and even thought I was home free for a while, but it was set all along." He laughed humorlessly, shaking his head. Victoria took a step back and shook her own head. She could find a way, she didn't know much about it anyway, so it wasn't like someone was going to try to get at her for information.

He read her easily once more and advanced. "You can't run away. There's no use, it will just put you in more danger––"

"Wait, who said anything about _danger_?" This seemed to throw him off, as his mouth shut and his eyes went back to that calculating stare.

"What do you mean?" He said slowly after a moment.

Victoria gaped at him. "What do _you_ mean?" She didn't remember anything about being in any danger. Just shining objects, poundings headaches, a case of what seemed more and more like schizophrenia and alien messages. Yeah, it screwed up her life, but she never felt in mortal _danger_. _God, I hate that word..._

He seemed unsure of what to say, and began slowly. "No one's been after you––?"

"'_After me!_'" She just about screamed, feeling her heart rate speed up and head pound again as images of red crosses and ethereal faces blazed across her eyelids when she blinked, like sunspots. Desmond seemed just about as panicked and caught her arm as she retreated back to the wall for support. "So now I have to worry about people chasing me!"

_Bing!_

Victoria practically jumped out of her skin, her fingers digging into Desmond's arm at the sound. She forced herself to breathe when she realized it was just the timer. Her macaroni needed stirring. Staring at it a long moment, she couldn't find the will to move her feet and fainting started to seem like a good option.

"Hey," Victoria snapped her head up as if hit, but calmed when it was just Desmond whispering. She realized her fingers still dug into his arm, and she forced her grip to loosen, feeling his own hands gently grasping her elbows. Her cheeks burned when she realized the proximity––his breath whisping across her face and her heart already rushing––but she found herself unable to do anything but turn her gaze back to the microwave's flashing numbers:

_00:00_

"Aren't you going to eat?" Desmond asked when she made no move to do anything. The burning of her cheeks quickly fled as her eyes became fixed to the numbers and voices filled her head.

_00:00_

"_We do not have enough time... she'll have to be our last."_

End. Out of time.

No going back.

"Victoria?"

She stumbled from his arms and smashed the button to open the microwave, causing the number screen to go blank. The door flew open, the smell of half frozen cheese sending her stomach tumbling and she slammed it shut. Dizzy and nauseous, she started to move out of the kitchen before Desmond caught her gently by the wrist, pulling to make her face him.

"You need to eat."

She stared at him, but her vision blurred slightly––as if trying to focus on something that wasn't there––and she shook her head. "I'm not hungry." Pulling from his grip, she rushed to the bathroom, locked the door, and slid down between the toilet and bathtub. Curling in on herself, she pressed her forehead into her knees and held her head, watching the numbers flash behind her eyelids.

**.x.**

Desmond tried to get in a few times, sounding alarmed at her actions and probably worried she'd do something rash and stupid like slit her wrists. She almost shouted that she wasn't some angsty teenager, but kept her mouth shut in fear of vomiting. Not that the thought hadn't occurred, but taking a razor to her skin had never appealed to her, even when she _was_ an angsty teenager.

But Desmond eventually gave up, though she still heard no indication of him leaving her apartment. Part of her felt bad for being so moody with him, but the other part of her assured her she had every right to be moody. _God, maybe I _am_ schizo._

Once the floor stopped spinning and switching from dirt to tile, and once her stomach calmed down, she shakily climbed into the shower and pulled off her clothes. Victoria turned the water on hotter than necessary; enough to be uncomfortable as it pounded against her skin making it tingle and burn. A small piece of her old self reminded her about rape kits and how showering was exactly what you were_ not_ supposed to do, but the memory of the man's bloody face and motionless form lead her to believe she and all other women had nothing to worry about from him again. That idea, and the added suggestion from her brain that it may be her fault, made her numb. She scrubbed herself down as if tearing at a rash, peeling off the dried blood specks left on her face and general grime, never feeling quite clean enough.

Every time the water cooled, she would prod the knob slightly more into the red zone until the hot water seemed to have emptied. Left with only warm water, she sighed and tried to relax her mind.

"I don't know," she heard Desmond speak lowly, his voice muffled by the wall and running water. He probably thought she couldn't hear him. She focused on his voice, picturing him standing in the living room, pacing slightly. Her head thudded like she had just chugged a slushy, and she winced but continued to focus. The hum of the water quieted into dull white noise, his voice amplified, and the headache lessened.

"We don't seem to be on the same page," he was saying quietly. "I'm not sure what happened." He paused, and she realized he was talking on the phone again. "Did it say anything else? No––I _know _I was there too. But did anything else show up?" He paused again. "And Shaun hasn't found anything?" She didn't like the sound of that, because it implied that this Shaun had found something previously, and if she understood the first "we" correctly, that meant Shaun had found something on _her._ _Great, more stalkers._

"So all we have is a name––nothing else?" He gave an aggravated sigh, and she could picture him running his hand through his hair in frustration. "What about _them_? Do you think they got anymore info out of that load of crap? Lucy––I––all it's given us is trouble, so yeah, I think it's full of shit!" He paused then let out a slow breath. "Yeah, sorry." He fell silent, and Victoria desperately wished she could hear the other side of this conversation, but even as she focused until her head thudded again, all she heard was an indiscernible voice. "She hasn't seemed to notice anyone other than me, and I haven't seen anything either. I mean, maybe, but nothing solidly has screamed Templars."

There it was. Templars. He has said that before. But Templars were disbanded centuries ago! Though there were still the Freemasons. And yeah, there were some groups of old men in funny hats now, and she had seen insignia everywhere, but they seemed more like a knitting group than anything to be worried about. Though she had seen the _Da Vinci Code_, skimmed the book too, and in a previous life thought the conspiracies were exciting. Especially ancient ones spanning centuries, and government cover-ups. Now she'd rather not think of it.

Despite this, an absurd thought occurred––was Desmond part of a cult to protect Jesus' so-called bloodline? Was _she_ one of Jesus' descendants? She snorted out loud. _I'll have to try walking on water sometime. Maybe make a few bucks turning water into wine._

Desmond's voice brought her back to her serious thoughts, and she silently prayed an apology for her sass. "I always keep _two_ eyes out for things, Luce, don't worry. Hopefully they haven't caught wind of it anyway."

Victoria listened for several more moments, but he didn't speak again. The water was growing cold and she assumed he had hung up. She sighed and turned off the water, ringing out her hair and wrapped herself in a towel in slow, careful movements. She sat on the edge of the tub, taking another towel to her hair and continued to slowly dry herself off, staring at nothing.

He had said they didn't seem on the same page, which had been coming across her mind recently as well. Then again, she didn't know what book they were on let alone page, so she considered herself screwed either way. She thought willingly for the first time back to the _incident_. The figures, the whispering, the lights, pain, and burning... but the memories were hazy and mixed now that she was searching for them. The more she tried to remember, the more it fell through her mind's grip. It was like some strange dream, but she knew it wasn't. A dream wouldn't have caused this much trouble.

But hadn't they said something about information? Was that what Desmond and the people he talked to wanted? But what information? She couldn't remember any more than that, nothing specific.

A knock at the door pulled her from her musings and she looked up. "Are you okay?" Desmond asked through the still locked door.

Victoria fingered her wet hair, wondering what she did with her brush. "Yeah."

"Alright." He was silent for a moment, but didn't seem to move. "I'll put the microwave back on, you still need to eat."

Victoria sighed. _What is with him and eating?_ "Okay." She didn't hear him move, but soon heard the microwave heating up again, and was surprised at his silent footsteps. It was hard to not make a sound on the creaky old floors.

Once dry, she looked down at her discarded clothes, realizing she hadn't brought in any clean ones. Heaving another sigh, which she seemed to do more and more often now, she pulled the towel tighter around her and unlocked the door, peeking around. The bathroom was placed awkwardly in the walkway to the front door, so she really couldn't see much, and she simply stalked out towards her room. She sped past the kitchen archway, spotting Desmond messing with the kitchen drawers, probably trying to find a suitable fork. She moved past before he turned, and quickly shut the door to her room.

By the time she had dressed into modest, clean PJs––seeing it was well after 1:00am despite the city lights outside her window––and had combed through her damp hair, the timer beeped again, signaling her food was ready. She left her room and almost ran into Desmond as he stepped from the kitchen.

"Oh," he glanced her over briefly, taking her in pajama shorts and oversized T-shirt, then threw a thumb over his shoulder. "Food's ready."

She nodded, "I figured." He moved aside to let her pass and she looked at the macaroni in the black box with a fork already sticking out of it, the contents thoroughly stirred. She stirred it slightly anyway and picked up the plate to move to the small table in the living room. Sitting down at the wooden table pushed against the wall, she glanced at Desmond as he continued to watch her. It was getting kind of annoying how much he watched her like a hawk.

Stabbing a fork full, she inspected the cheese before moving to eat it. "Careful," Desmond suddenly spoke up and she blinked up at him, mouth still open. "It's hot."

Practically slamming the fork down, she gave an aggravated sigh. "Will you stop babying me?"

"What?" He seemed taken aback, making her want to laugh although she decided against it.

"I'm not a three year old." She glared at him. "I've been living on my own for years now, I haven't needed my mom here for quite a while and I still don't. So stop acting like I do." Part of it was a lie––recent events had made her want her mother with her desperately, but she doubted it would do any real help and had ignored the feeling since. When he said nothing, she went back to take a bite of food, hissing when it burnt the roof of her mouth slightly. _Damn it, why can't I ever be right?_

Seeing the smirk on Desmond's face as he moved to sit in front of her, she shot him a glare so he wouldn't laugh at her. If he did laugh, she was debating whether she would curl up in a corner and cry again, or lunge for his throat. Luckily (or unfortunately, depending how she looked at it), he swallowed his amusement. "I'm just here to make sure you're okay."

Victoria stabbed at the noodles violently. "You said that before."

"Because it's true."

"Yeah, well you'll have to excuse me for not trusting strangers so easily." She chewed, her stomach both protesting and encouraging the long-needed fuel.

Desmond looked around the room, then back at her with a quirked eyebrow. "You don't trust me?"

Victoria glanced around the room once before understanding. She let him in her house, in her space, and even make her food. She wondered if her front door was still locked. "This is a special circumstance." She stabbed her food again. Then, as she continued to feel his gaze, she gave him another glare. "So, what's with the Templars?"

It was surprising to see how much one word could change him. His easygoing smile and position shifted immediately. His shoulders stiffened, arms tense, jaw clenched, and lips turned to a slight frown. His brown eyes turned more guarded then usual, and she found their gaze more uncomfortable than before. "What?"

"You mentioned them before. Are you a history buff or something?" Her tone quickly felt to a rather pathetic, meek, high pitch. Originally she wanted to use Templars as a chip to gain the upper hand and find more information, but now she tried to make it an off-hand comment with limited cost. His hard stare chilled her to the bone, and she wondered if she would be able to get to the door and unlock it before he could catch her. Unlikely: all he'd need to do was get up and take a large step to his right and he'd easily block her only escape. Windows were a plausible exit, but she wasn't sure she'd survive that, and he still might be able to catch her.

"Victoria." She hesitantly brought her eyes back to him, focusing on the scar on his lips rather than his eyes. His tone was quiet and serious, and honestly, she would have preferred his patronizing manner from before. "Look at me," it wasn't a question or a command, some odd in between. It took her a moment to build up the courage to do so. She cursed herself for letting herself get comfortable with him so easily, that she had forgotten how he could make her chest tight and hairs stand on end––and not in a good way. He was watching her carefully, gaze a little less intense than before, and he leaned forwards slightly, arms still crossed. She clutched her fork tighter, reminding herself of humans' vital points. "I think we need to be straight with each other."

_Oh,_ she blinked, not expecting that. She frankly didn't know what she was expecting, but it wasn't that. "All right."

He leaned back again, shoulders relaxing slightly. "I can't tell you much right now, it's all really complicated and Shaun will be pissed at me letting you in on things," he smirked at this and she figured that for some reason, that was a good thing. "But on a basic level, two secret groups have been warring with each other for centuries over a thing that holds incredible power. Recently, a third group has be revealed and thrown a wrench into things and now we're trying to figure that whole crap out while still defending ourselves and… many others."

Victoria swallowed. "'We?'"

Desmond smirked knowingly. "One group is the Templars."

He paused to let her chew the thought over before she prompted him to continue. "And the other?"

"The Assassins."

Victoria stared at him for a moment, expecting him to yell 'April Fools!' or something. When he simply continued to watch her with a small smile, she chewed on her lip. She knew, from previous comments and some other feeling she couldn't place, that he was not apart of the Templars. She swallowed. "Isn't that more of an occupation?"

He smiled. "That's only the tip of the iceberg."

**.x.**

**A/N:** *refrains from making _dun dun duuun _sound* I would like to take a moment to thank all of my readers for being interested in my story, and I apologize that I can be a mope about reviews. So double-awesome-cookie thanks to those who have reviewed! Kookie-douwh, jesswilliams, papertowl1567, nining, Xxnikkigirl124xX, NinjaAnbuGirl, Tarkana262, and ShadowedEssence.

Thank you all for you kind comments and putting up with me. I will do my best to keep this going strong for you. And always feel free to leave suggestions for anything.

And as a parting, but late, note: Who else majorly freaked when they released a Desmond-centric trailer for Revelations? I couldn't breathe for most of it, but when I got it back I basically squeed my heart out. Our Dessy is finally getting more screen time, and a more detailed background! :D


	7. Let's Hope it's Not a Double Feature

**A/N: **Holy crap guys, I'm so sorry! Less for the length it took to update (I expected that from the beginning) but more for taking so long to update with that sort of cliff-hanger-ish ending last chapter! College has taken control, so I completely forgot that's where I stopped you guys… I'm sorry!

**.x.**

"So... you're an Assassin."

Victoria was no longer sure she wanted this man in her house. He just about admitted he was a murderer – probably a mass murderer, at that! – though not in so many words. But suddenly things made sense. How quietly he walked. How easily he read her, how hard it was to read him. How he could slip into a crowd and disappear without a problem. And how inconsequential that run in with the thugs was to him.

The murderer – er, Assassin – no, _Desmond_– nodded, a small, amused smile quirking his lips. She stared at the scar again that pierced through the stubble and sliced a white mark across his otherwise pinkish lips. Suddenly, the possibilities for its origin became endless.

He seemed relatively at ease, at least more so then she felt now. She could feel her shoulders hunched and tense, the grip on her fork pressing marks into her hand, and her head pounded in response to the stress. Her gaze dropped to the wooden table as images flashed across her mind's eye. Figures in white and black, hoods pulled up, weapons and armor blazing, low chants and clangs of battle.

_Nothing is true…_

The soft _shink_ of an extended blade, followed by a sickening gurgle as it found its mark in a neck. Whispers of a time long ago floated in her head, brushing against her consciousness but as she tried to reach for the words, they fled. She could smell the dust and blood cooking into cracked ground under the scrutiny of a burning sun.

Taking a breath, she cleared her senses, smelling only the melted cheese of the macaroni in front of her. She looked up at Desmond again, who was watching her patiently. Her mouth moved a few times before she found the proper sounds. "Have you killed anyone?" She whispered, but he heard her without problem. He watched her with a thoughtful expression, and she knew he was debating over telling her the truth, just as much as she knew the answer was obvious.

Finally– "Yes."

Some part of her heart fell, her chest tightened, and she suddenly felt like a child who heard a bad word for the first time – but much much worse. Though, she realized, a part of her had expected this. From the beginning, if she thought back enough. She should've known, it was written all over; it was buried in her mind beneath the headaches and sarcasm. Victoria remembered the blood on her hands in the movie theatre. Was it her mind playing tricks on her, or trying to tell her something?

"So?" Desmond spoke up, causing her gaze to turn back to him.

"So what?"

He shifted in the chair. "I've told you my side." _No, you only told me you are a murderer and are friends with other murders who like to fight another group who are also probably murderers._ She decided not to voice that. She wasn't sure she wanted to know more than that anyway.

"You won't believe me." She said, stirring her food. Her appetite was completely gone again.

"I just told you that two sects that should be long dead are currently at war with each other over an object with enough power to destroy the world." She didn't remember that last part. "It's straight out of fiction, I think I can handle what you say."

She snorted a dry laugh. "Mine's more sci-fi."

He quirked an eyebrow. "How so?"

She sighed. "If you laugh, I promise this fork will end up in a painful place."

He smirked. "All right."

So she told him – about the strange figures, what she remembered of being there and what they did to her, and about the side effects she'd be suffering ever since. He didn't interrupt, though it seemed he wanted to at times, and when she fell silent he simply continued to stare thoughtfully, arms crossed. "You told me once," she added, "that I don't have any old headache. Why is that?"

He shifted again and rubbed his head. "Well, I can't say I was expecting that." He gave a long pause, running his hand through his very short hair, before answering her question. "Well, before it sounded like symptoms of the bleeding effect, and it still does but I'm not sure how it happened now."

Victoria's eyes widened while he focused thoughtfully on the wall past her. "Bleeding effect?" That didn't sound good. He shifted and released a breath, and she figured she was in for more information he hadn't wanted to share. Leaning forward curiously, she watched him.

"It's when you're exposed to...other people's memories for so long, that you start losing grip on reality and slowly become more like them. Sometimes it awakens otherwise dormant traits, and other times that person's personality and abilities just seep into you." Desmond's eyes found hers again, his face serious. "Most go insane within a few months."

She forced her jaw to stay where it was. Another thing to add to her list of problems, which was growing so fast she was started to go numb over the whole issue. "Well, I always knew I was insane anyway..." Then, she blinked away wetness in her eyes and looked at him again. "You said you suffered from what I did, before. How're you not insane?"

He grimaced. "Believe me, it was pretty awful for a while. But we worked through it." It seemed as if he was leaving something out, but Victoria didn't push it. She'd find the information if the time came.

"But what do you mean, exposed to other people's memories? Is that even possible?"

He leaned forwards again. "Have you ever looked at someone, knowing full well you don't know them, but they still look familiar? Or you look down the street and all you see are horses and carts? Or how you suddenly feel something or think something otherwise out of character, and almost smell a spice that doesn't exist here." She nodded slowly, surreptitiously glancing around the room for signs of the strange figure that had been popping up recently. The room, however, appeared empty. "Those are all residual memories from your ancestors."

Her brows furrowed. "You mean that genetic memory rumor that went around a few years back? I thought that was all theory used to make a couple bucks on a slow news day."

"They try to keep it under wraps, but it's real all right." His brows furrowed as well as he studied her, eyes narrowed. "What I don't get is _how_ you were exposed. It must've been…" he trailed off, looking at the ceiling, then glanced back to her. "You've never heard of an Animus?"

Something clicked in her brain and her head throbbed, flashes of information moving too quickly for her to understand. "N-No, I don't think so. Not consciously... what is it?"

He waved it off and looked back to the wall with a frown, his voice so low it was hard to hear it. "You said the figures had a gold object?" When she nodded he made a thoughtful hum.

"What?" She leaned forwards.

Desmond looked at her again then shook his head with an apologetic grin. "I've already said a bit much." He glanced around the room, and a thought occurred to her.

"Are people really after me?" She glanced around the room as well, "Is this place bugged?" The first few days after the incident, she had sworn the figures were always watching her, but she knew now that was more posttraumatic stress than anything else. But with this new information, it seemed plausible in some sense.

He grinned, bringing her attention to his bruise again. Somehow, the swelling had become almost nonexistent and the colors were minimum on his tanned skin. _He must be a hell of a fast healer._ "Don't worry, I swept the place, you're good. As for people coming after you... hopefully it won't get to that, seeing as none of us have picked up on any movement from them yet."

"So what now?" Victoria asked after a moment.

"Now," Desmond got to his feet, "I've kept you up long enough. Don't you have class tomorrow?"

A part of Victoria registered it was a bit creepy that he knew this despite the fact she never informed him of her current class schedule. But Desmond seemed to handle creepy qualities well (which may just be more creepy in itself…) His stalking _had_ come in handy a few hours ago. _God, a few hours?_ It felt more like a lifetime with all this new information. She realized with a jolt that she hadn't told anyone about her situation at all, always excusing it as rough nights or sickness. Desmond was the only one that knew the truth and was kind enough not to laugh at her. As she got to her feet, watching Desmond as well, she realized that she no longer viewed him as the same man from a few hours ago. And she knew because of it that whatever was going on was very, very big.

"How can I even think about class now?" Victoria groaned as she picked up her plate and moved to the sink, Desmond following after. Concerns about her classes were limited nowadays, trampled over by fears for her sanity instead. A year ago, she would be freaking out at the fact she used up all her excused absences and more, and that she had piles of backed up homework shoved into her bookcase that could be a matter of passing or failing the course. But, it all seemed so small, so useless now. There was a _war_ going on, and by the sounds of things she was being dragged straight into the middle of it.

She dumped the half eaten macaroni and cheese in the garbage, reminding herself to take it out later, and let the plate fall into the sink. She turned on the water and pulled up her sleeves to rinse it out while Desmond leaned against the counter by the forgotten coffee.

"Savor normal things like that." He said, and she quirked an eyebrow at him. He was frowning. "You'll miss the simple."

"I already do." She mumbled, scrapping off stray cheese before shaking the plate off and putting it in the drying wrack, reaching for a hand towel in the process. She ignored the dirty fork; she hated washing silverware. Suddenly, Desmond was right beside her. "What–"

"Can I see?" He was staring down at her hands, his own moving towards them. She awkwardly held her hands out to him, before she realized what he was looking at. She tried to close her fingers around the scar and pull away, but he caught her wrist before the command even went from her brain to her arm. He traced the broken triangular pattern with this finger, and she became aware of their proximity once more. She held her breath, trying not to focus on the contact, but finding it rather difficult. The scar burned at the contact and she felt her finger heat up as well.

"Desmond, what the–"

He smiled. "That makes sense now." Looking at her, he continued, "You said they told you allies would find you?"

Her eyebrows still raised, she nodded. He laughed and let her go. The burning disappeared. "What's so funny about that?"

"They marked you. I wondered why that symbol was on your palm the first time I saw it – now it makes sense. They must think we're idiots..."

Victoria's eyebrows went slightly higher. "When you ran into me that first day, was that a coincidence?"

He gave an amused smile. "Do you believe in coincidences?"

_I'll take that as a no._ "Only on a rare occasion, less and less recently."

"Good," was all he said before he moved away and swiftly switched topics. "Now, you're going to have a hell of a time waking up tomorrow by the looks of things, so I suggest you go to bed."

Victoria looked at the clock on her microwave, relieved that it no longer read _00:00_, and saw that it was nearing three in the morning. _Yep, I'm screwed._ Her first class was at nine. She followed him as he moved from the kitchen and looked around thoughtfully. "What are you going to do?"

He stared at the ceiling, frowning in thought. "I haven't decided yet."

Victoria ran a few different scenarios in her head before forcing her mind to shut up. She shifted her weight and sighed, realizing she didn't want to be alone, not after everything that happened. She sorely missed Lori's constancy and schedule, something that was predictable and reassuring. "Stay here." He raised an eyebrow at her like she was crazy. "It's late, I'm sure you've had a long, busy day of stalking me–" he snorted a laugh, "so, just stay here. Consider it payment."

"I'm not sure loaning a couch equals saving your ass, especially as you have no actual couch," he mused with an amused smirk, glancing at the two small armchairs seated in front of a modest TV, which made up most of the living room.

"If you're really an Assassin, I'm sure you've slept worse places." She huffed, regretting the fact that she just admitted she was in his debt. She didn't mind owing people something, but that was because the payment was manageable or negated by another action. With him, she had no idea what the favor might entail.

"Mm, don't remind me." He rolled out his neck with a frown. Victoria moved for her closet, digging through it before she found the stash of extra blankets and pillows. She pulled out a pillow and threw it in his general direction and started for a blanket when he spoke up. "I don't need a blanket."

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "You sure?" He nodded so she closed the closet and moved back towards her room, standing in the doorway while Desmond planted himself in one of the armchairs, reclining backwards. "Well, g'night." He waved his hand and threw her a grin over his shoulder, repeating the sentiment.

**.x.**

Victoria curled up beneath her many blankets and thick comforter, pulling the edge up over her head enough so she was covered but could still breathe fresh air. She smashed the buttons on her iPod dock until something happened, then swiped to her "sleepy" playlist. She had turned the lights in her room and kitchen off, leaving Desmond to care for the living room. The blinds and curtains were pulled over the single window, but even so dull light still leaked through spreading awkward shadows across her room. She ducked more beneath the covers, shutting her eyes tight as she willed her body to relax. This was accomplished soon by the wave of exhaustion that washed over her within moments of cuddling into her cocoon, but resting her mind was where the real challenge came. It buzzed and pounded with the new information, trying to piece everything together while only managing to make herself more confused.

Her mind continued to fall back on the man in the room next to her, who felt like the source of all her problems. Even so, his presence lifted something off her chest, or at least distracted her enough from the visions dancing on the edge of her consciousness, the ones that tended to plague her at night. But it also managed to remind her he was sleeping in a small chair, which was perfectly okay for naps, but not much else. As the minutes ticked by, her playlist looped, and sleepiness just barely beyond her reach, she finally groaned and rolled out of bed. She shoved the few stuffed animals she still kept on her bed to the ground at the foot of her bed and grabbed her pillow, walking towards the doorway.

"Hey," she said into the dark room through the slightly ajar door.

"Hm?" Desmond didn't sound sleepy at all, and she thought about forgetting her offer and going back to bed. But she'd end up guilt tripping herself about it later, so she sighed and continued.

"You can sleep in my bed."

"I didn't know you felt that way about me," he laughed, though didn't move.

Victoria's face and ears burned. _Curse my inability to form coherent sentences at three in the morning!_ "Not like that, you idiot! I'm sleeping in Lori's bed." It may have been simpler to offer him Lori's bed, but she knew she wouldn't want Lori to invite one of her friends, especially guy friends, to sleep in her bed without her permission. It was just... creepy. But she knew Lori held no qualm about sharing things with Victoria, and vice versa, so she'd steal her bed for the night.

"It's all right, I'm good here." He said nonchalantly, and she thought she saw his shoulders move.

Victoria gave a sigh that sounded more like a growl. "Just get in here or I won't be able to sleep knowing you're out there."

"Fine," she heard him laugh and get up and she moved back towards Lori's bed. "And bring your pillow." She added over her shoulder. Plopping onto the bed she still kept made and dust-free in hopes Lori would return soon, Victoria threw her pillow down and buried herself under the covers. She watched as Desmond got onto the bed, though he laid on top of the blankets. She found it odd, and wondered if it was some Assassin thing. She was suddenly glad she wasn't an Assassin – because she would never give up the comfort of being wrapped in layers of comforters that did their namesake well. And the killing part she'd have an issue with, too.

She watched Desmond for a few minutes as he stared up at the ceiling, then got bored and rolled over towards the wall, willing her mind to ease so she could get some sleep. Then she remembered something. "Desmond?"

"Hm?"

She clutched the comforter and shut her eyes, her voice quiet. "Thanks. For everything."

"No problem."

In the darkness as both struggled to sleep, familiar fingers brushed against her cheek, warm and like a soft breath. "_Don't worry, my lamb. We'll take care of you. I won't leave you."_

**.x.**

**A/N:** Also, for anyone interested, I made a tumblr for my fanfiction needs… feel free to chat me up there if you're bored (not that I updated that recently either, haha). You can find it at fangirl-with-a-mac. Tumblr . com I kinda want to completely edit all my stories buuut… too lazy and have too much other stuff to do instead (like this story coughcough). Soooo…

Yay?


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